


love's got an enemy (it's bleeding inside of me)

by danahscott



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Bellamy Blake, Injured Clarke Griffin, but its not as campy as you would think, femme fatale clarke!, hardboiled detective bellamy!, lots of angst though. be forewarned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danahscott/pseuds/danahscott
Summary: It was just supposed to be another job. That’s how it started: a meeting in a coffee shop with a pretty blonde who Bellamy hadn’t realized would soon become as important to him as the air he breathes. But it ends here: in a warehouse, by lantern light, with two guns pointed at his head and the gun that is in her eyes pointed at his heart. Guess which of the three was killing him.But there is a moment -- just before the bullet finds its target and just after the trigger is pulled -- when he wonders if he ever knew the truth. If he even knows it now.But he was too focused on the blood sliding down her wrist. It was reminding him of something - of a memory. People are wrong about the speed of a bullet. The time between the sound and the impact. It’s not instantaneous. It’s an eternity.It’s enough time to take Bellamy back to the start. Back to before he even knew her name.Or: Bellarke!Private Detective AU <3
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Madi
Comments: 70
Kudos: 120





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for clicking on this after that incoherent summary! i might twinge it later, we'll see. once you read this first chapter, the gist of the fic should be much clearer. i got super into film noir this summer, and i also got super into stumptown and this is the product of that. i'm really excited about this fic! and my updates should be pretty frequent because i've already written 8 1/2 chapters! they get longer as the fic goes on. 
> 
> hopefully this can fill a void that s7 has yet to fill (6 more eps tho! let's all cross our fingers!) if u like this, i would love to hear what you think! expect another update in a couple of days! until then, enjoy!

It was just supposed to be another job. That's how it started: a meeting in a coffee shop with a pretty blonde who Bellamy hadn't realized would soon become as important to him as the air he breathes. But it ends here: in a warehouse, by lantern light, with two guns pointed at his head and the gun that is in her eyes pointed at his heart. Guess which of the three was killing him.

But there is a moment - just before the bullet finds its target and just after the trigger is pulled - when he wonders if he ever knew the truth. If he even knows it now.

But he was too focused on the blood sliding down her wrist. It was reminding him of something - of a memory. People are wrong about the speed of a bullet. The time between the sound and the impact. It's not instantaneous. It's an eternity.

It's enough time to take Bellamy back to the start. Back to before he even knew her name.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He met her, as he did all his clients, in a public place of her choosing. She picked a coffee shop almost an hour away, so already, Bellamy was considering turning down the case. Not that he was really in a financial position to turn it down. Her name was Clarke Griffin, and he wondered if she had any connections to Abigail Griffin. If she did, that would make her an heiress. It would also probably make this case his worst nightmare. He hated solving rich people's problems, and he could only guess what a twenty-three year old heiress would need a private detective's help with. Especially considering he's one of the ones with cheaper rates.

Arkadia wasn't exactly a small town, so it wasn't like he was the only available PI. If her last name really belonged to the woman he suspected it belonged to, she should be able to have the cream of the crop. Not him, a cheap detective from a shady part of town who had only been working for two years. Now, she was making him bust his ass to get to Polis just to hear about how she didn't know if her boyfriend really loved her or if he was just after her money. Spoiler alert: if she was hiring Bellamy, the guy was after her money. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Griffin wasn't that uncommon a last name. He could have the wrong person.

His hunches were usually right, though. That's why he became a private investigator. It was the only thing he'd ever been truly good at.

(And well, he was right, it would turn out. But not about everything.)

He got to this coffee shop and she was already sitting there. She'd given him a brief description of what she was wearing so he'd be able to recognize her, but once he caught sight of her, he thought that she should've just told him about her hair. You couldn't miss that blonde head from a mile away.

Maybe he was being an asshole here, but the moment he sat down, he couldn't help but say, "So is it Griffin as in Abigail Griffin?"

Her pretty face - and it was kind of a pretty face - immediately soured. Bellamy almost liked the scowl better than the smile. Both were nice. But that wasn't why he was here. She slid a coffee toward him. "I didn't know what you liked so I just got two of my order."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow and took a sip, then had to mask his surprise when he realized she took it completely black. He didn't look her in the eye as he reached for a creamer cup. This was already going poorly. It was important that he had the upper hand. Even if she was his boss, he had to be in charge, or else she wouldn't tell him everything he needed to know. Clients were always trying to get away with that shit, only telling him the bits that didn't embarrass them, or make them feel ashamed.

However, by the clear dodge of his question, Clarke had just told him that he was right. He wasn't expecting her to touch on the topic again, but as soon as he set his coffee down, she looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes, as in Abigail Griffin. I don't talk to my mother anymore, but I do still have plenty of money, so if you're worried about your paycheck, you don't need to be." He'd find out later that the money came from her father's will, that she was actually nothing like the heiress he'd assumed her to be. But at that moment he felt a very familiar feeling: the resentment that comes from knowing that he was going to have to be sprinting and fighting tooth and nail just to scrape by, and people like Clarke Griffin would be set for life without even having to talk to their mommies.

He couldn't show that, though. Not to a client. "Okay, then. So what problem is so big that Abigail Griffin's daughter needs a private detective?"

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, he wondered if she would decide not to hire him right there. He almost hoped she wouldn't, and after only three minutes of conversation, he would probably deserve that. But he needed the money and this girl was going to give it to him. Still, she apparently wasn't just going to let that one slide. "My name is Clarke. And the detective isn't for me."

Now that was interesting. "But you're the one doing the paying?"

"I'm the one who has the money."

"So you're not at all involved in the situation, then."

"Well, I wouldn't say that." She opened her mouth, presumably to tell him what she was hiring him for, but Bellamy had two bones to pick first.

"Before you tell me all your secrets, I need you to understand that I'm located in Arkadia. I'm not going to bust my ass every day to get to Polis, not unless you want to pay for my gas."

Her face betrayed a slight hint of concern. "Do you need travel expenses for getting here?"

It was a heroic effort not to roll his eyes. "I need to know if I'm going to need to get here everyday."

"Oh. No, I live in Arkadia."

"So why meet here?"

Clarke raised her eyebrow. "You're a PI who meets in public. I don't want to risk being overheard by the very people I need protection from."

Now Bellamy was definitely interested. This didn't sound like simple relationship issues. He was on the verge of being all in. Once he committed to a case, he committed. No holding back. He would do whatever he could to help his client. And even though he needed money and needed it bad, he didn't like to take cases that he felt would be making the world a bit of a worse place. There was a difference between an affair and sabotage. He just had one final question before he'd shut up and listen. "Okay. And why me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My wages aren't exactly steep. You're rich enough to hire whoever you want, and god knows I've got competition in Arkadia. Why are you hiring me and not them?"

The corner of Clarke's mouth twitched like she wanted to smile. "Rather suspicious, aren't you?"

"I'm a detective. That's my job."

That earned a real smile. Bellamy had the sudden urge to try and earn another one. But her face grew very serious very quickly and it produced the successful effect of getting his full attention. "Because I need help from someone I can trust. And I need the best. I hear you get results and I hear you're a good guy. I hear you're working this job because you have someone you care about to support."

Now, he was almost uneasy. If Octavia ever came into the equation in any way, he grew ten times more wary. "Where are you hearing this?" he said, hoping to sound as serious as he was trying to instead of just worried.

"Raven Reyes. Don't worry, she didn't tell me who it was you're taking care of."

Relief set in quickly. Raven. Former client. Wanted to know if her scumbag boyfriend was cheating on her, and of course, he was. But she was cool. Actually, she was friends with Octavia, and sometimes she and Bellamy would grab drinks whenever they needed to bitch about their problems to someone who'd laugh at them. Sometimes you needed someone to laugh at your issues so they didn't feel so heavy. Raven was good at that.

Now that he knew Clarke was friends with her, and good enough friends that Raven felt she could trust her, she went up a few rankings in Bellamy's books. Raven wouldn't tell just anyone about Octavia. She knew how Bellamy felt about that. She and Clarke must be close.

He sighed. Well, there was no way he'd get out of this job now, not when it was practically a favor for a friend. Plus, he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to. Clarke Griffin was looking a lot more interesting at second glance. "Okay. So what am I being hired for?"

"Her name is Madi. She lives in my building." She spoke carefully, like she'd practiced this speech before meeting him. "She's only nineteen and she doesn't have any family. I'm the only person who can take care of her." Bellamy nodded. He could understand that. "She's being blackmailed."

Now that was interesting. Bellamy made sure to keep his face neutral and steady. "For what?"

"Drugs."

Despite his efforts, he was sure he looked taken aback. "Does she have them?"

"No."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Yes," Clarke said simply. He was skeptical, but he said nothing.

Bellamy sighed. "Look, I need you to lay this out for me. Why would someone blackmail her for drugs then? Is she rich?"

"I already told you she doesn't have any money."

"Right. So what am I missing?"

Clarke sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "Her boyfriend was the one with the drugs. They grew up together. He didn't start using until a couple years back, always made sure to keep her out of it. And she did keep out of it."

"Okay, so why's she the one getting blackmailed then?"

"He OD'd three weeks ago."

Bellamy winced and looked away. If that had been Octavia… but he had to stay focused. "I feel like I'm missing something here."

Clarke nodded. "A few days before he died, he was shooting up in their apartment. She got mad, told him she didn't want any drugs in their home and he told her that he'd stashed the drugs where 'no one could find them now.' I guess whatever he'd gotten himself into he wasn't taking seriously enough. Then a few days later he told her he was going to stay at a friend's house. Then he died."

Bellamy could finish the story on his own. "And now someone thinks Madi knows where her boyfriend stashed the drugs." Clarke nodded. It seemed simple, but this was already looking like a far more interesting case than he had ever worked. (Little did he know how true that would turn out to be.) "So where do I come into this?"

"I want you to help me track down the guy who's doing it. I want enough evidence to be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's him." She looked down. He followed her gaze to her hands and saw that she was fidgeting with them. The first sign since meeting her that Clarke was nervous. "But I need to tell you my one rule before we make this official."

"Okay."

She didn't look up until she'd finished speaking. "No cops." Like most private detectives, Bellamy had a connection with someone on the force. A perfectly legal one - not all PI-cop relationships were. But it came in handy. Still, he let her keep going. "I'm sure you know, but not all the cops can be trusted when it comes to the drug culture in Arkadia." It was true that not all cops in Arkadia were as honorable as Nathan Miller, if any of them were. He had a feeling he knew exactly who she was talking about, and it was almost impressive. She must have really done her research.

Clarke took a sip of her coffee. Then, she went on. "There are two exceptions to the rule. If anything happens to Madi, we do what we have to do and call an ambulance. And if you get hurt, the choice is yours."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Me?"

"Or anyone you care about." He must have looked surprised, because she laughed a bit. "Well, I'm not going to hold your life hostage because you're working a case. Anyway, the cop thing is only in case of emergency. Otherwise, I can take care of it. I used to go to med school."

"Duly noted." If Bellamy was like other private detectives, this was where he might take a moment to reconsider taking this case. But the moment he'd heard that a young girl was in trouble, he knew that he could never turn this down.

"Alright. Last order of business." She slid a key across the table with a note attached to it on which an address was neatly written.

"Sorry, what's this for?" Bellamy asked, taking it.

"That's to my apartment. It'll be easier for you to have one."

"Right, I got that, I'm just trying to understand why I would need a key to your apartment."

"So we can work on the case," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm hiring you because two minds are better than one."

"I usually work alone."

Clarke smiled at him. It was cute. It was infuriating. "Then consider me your partner."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Little did he know it then, but time was already running out.

The trigger has been pulled. The bullet's about to leave the barrel of the gun. And something is ending.

But in his memory, Bellamy is knocking on her door for the first time, nervous for some indiscernible reason, and on the precipice of everything. From here, it won't even take him very long to realize that he's gone past the point of no return.


	2. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy meets Madi. Clarke opens up in a surprising way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i'm back with that detective au no one asked for. meant to update yesterday but yesterday turned into the day from hell. just know that there are clues in every single chapter and that i literally have color-coded post-its on my wall that say what each character is doing when so i could keep the timelines straight. i hope that by the time the mystery is solved y'all will feel somewhat surprised or maybe vindicated.
> 
> it's not so much as who, bc you'll basically find that out next chapter, (bellamy won't). but you'll see. anyway. comments change my life and so do kudos. hope u guys enjoy!
> 
> (also that episode??? goddamn.)

When Clarke opened the door, she looked amused. "Why didn't you use the key?"

Bellamy didn't know quite how to answer. "I thought it would be rude." He was meant to check in every time he had any new information. If she found anything out, she would call and he'd come over. Tonight, all he had to do was go over to her place and go over all the evidence she'd gathered so far, which she warned him wasn't a lot. More importantly, he was going to meet Madi. It wasn't that he didn't trust Clarke, but sometimes people had blinders on when it came to the ones they loved. He was sure he'd be able to tell if she was lying better than Clarke could.

She swung the door open to let him in and he found himself a little bit surprised at her place. It was nice, very neat, but it was a lot smaller than he'd thought it would be. Clarke Griffin was incompatible with the rich image he had in his mind of her in some ways, but in other ways it made sense. The way she held herself. The way she casually told Bellamy the day before that she had enough money that she never had to worry about it. So in some ways, he could tell she came from money. But her home was pretty modest. And she hadn't condescended to him once.

Clarke, of course, didn't know all this was running through his head at a first glance. Maybe she suspected. But that was what it was like to be a private detective. You didn't always have access to endless databases and hidden sources. Most times, you just trusted your gut. That meant you had to be able to pick up on things about people that they weren't likely to tell you and be right more times than you were wrong. All he said out loud, though, was "Nice place."

"Thanks. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah," he lied. He didn't like this partner set-up already, and he wasn't about to give her the idea that they would do anything other than work. He wasn't getting paid to eat her homemade family recipes. Clarke just shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Take a seat on the couch. Madi's in the bathroom, she'll be out in a sec."

"She's already here?" Bellamy asked. That didn't surprise him, but he was trying to suss out their exact relationship.

"She spends more time here than in her place. I certainly don't want her spending too much time alone right now."

"And she just listens to you?" He wasn't actually thinking about the case when he asked this. He was thinking about Octavia. She would never listen to him.

"Not at first. But after - well. Maybe I should just let her tell you." Clarke then proceeded to disappear into the kitchen leaving Bellamy alone in her living room. He looked around, trying to spot anything that would tell him more about her. But the only personal thing he could find was a picture - only one. Clarke looked young. Lighter. Happier. She was standing with her arms around a man who looked older than her. A vague memory of reading about his death in the paper told him that it was Jake Griffin. Freak accident. Mom was driving, Clarke was in the back, but the only one with any lasting damge was Jake. Bellamy winced. He forgot about that. He never thought he'd need to know it again.

But when Clarke emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of water, there was no trace of the recollection on his face. It was five years ago. She would have been finishing up college. That must have been tough, but it was a long time ago. No need to dredge any of it up. And anyway, moments after Clarke sat down next to him, Madi came out of the bathroom.

She looked wary, a little skittish, even. There were dark circles under her eyes. She was a bit pale. Clarke had told him that Madi was nineteen, but she looked younger than that. And she almost looked like a young Octavia. What was wrong with him? Why was he getting so caught up in his feelings during this case?

He shook his head slightly, looking at Clarke instead to shake himself out of it. She looked almost like a different person when she looked at Madi. Her face was gentle, encouraging, worried and protective all at once. But maybe what stood out most was the love that she clearly had for the girl. You didn't have to know anything about Clarke to be able to tell how much she cared about Madi. "Madi, this is Bellamy. Bellamy, this is Madi."

Madi offered him a tentative smile. "Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me."

"Don't thank me yet," Bellamy said, trying to sound good-natured, but the quick glare Clarke shot him told him that maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Madi sat on Clarke's other side, leaving a buffer between her and Bellamy. He wanted to redeem himself a little, or at least make an okay first impression, let her know that he would make her as safe as he could so he said, "Before you tell me anything, I just want you to know that I take my job very seriously. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

That earned a real smile. Not only from Madi, but from Clarke too, albeit a close-lipped one. But it was more in her eyes, a sense of approval, or maybe trust. Bellamy wanted to see that look more often. (He would. More times than he was capable of believing he deserved.) "Clarke tells me you're staying with her for now."

Madi nodded. "Yeah, most of the time. It's been… hard since, um, since everything, I guess." She was warming up a little bit, but she still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What was your boyfriend's name?" Bellamy asked, gently.

"Grey." She said it carefully, like she wanted to savor the word. "He's been there my whole life. And I guess it's hard to be in my old place right now." While she spoke, Clarke put an arm around her.

"And he died…?"

"Three weeks ago. One of his friends found the body."

"When did the blackmail start?"

"Um, about two days later, I think," Madi said, looking towards Clarke for corroboration. Clarke nodded. "I didn't take it too seriously at first. It was just letters at first. But then, when they kept coming, I told Clarke about it, just in case."

"Right, and she wanted you to stay here. But you didn't want to?"

"No. Until…" Madi paused. She took a long sip of water. "I guess I should have realized that if they knew where I lived, they'd know where I worked too."

"They?"

Clarke answered his question this time. "There's two. She was cornered by two guys on her way home from work." Madi seemed to have clammed up a bit, looking to Clarke for guidance, so Clarke kept talking. "They got her into an alley, didn't hurt her, but scared the living shit out of both of us. This was about a week and a half ago?"

Bellamy looked at Madi again. "What did they say to you?"

Madi looked steadily at her feet. "That if I didn't get them the drugs, bad things would happen. To everyone I cared about, and then to me."

"You know I'm not gonna let that happen, right, Madi?" Clarke said, softly, in a way that almost made Bellamy feel like an intruder.

"I'm not worried about just me," Madi said meaningfully, in a way Bellamy couldn't quite decipher, and then got up off the couch. She almost sounded angry. But he understood better than most that concern sometimes came out as anger. He'd had a lot of problems with Octavia because of that, and besides, Madi was the kid in the situation. Still, there was a certain pointedness about it that Bellamy couldn't quite place.

Maybe Clarke was the type to throw herself into danger whenever the whim suited her. It wouldn't exactly shock him if that was the case, he thought, remembering her exceptions when it came to the "No Cops" rule. Namely, who those exceptions didn't include.

But Bellamy had a more pressing question to ask, one he knew Clarke wouldn't like. "Madi, I need you to be honest with me."

"Of course."

"Do you know where the drugs are?"

Her eyes widened, and Clarke's head snapped toward him, but Bellamy didn't move his gaze from where it rested steadily on Madi's face, looking for any betrayal of secret knowledge. "I already told you she didn't," Clarke said.

But Madi just blinked and calmly answered him, even though her voice quavered a bit. "I wish I did. I already looked everywhere I could think of. Grey told me that he dumped them where no one could find them, and I think he was right, because if I could just find the drugs, I would give them up tonight. I haven't slept since they threatened me, I can barely eat. All I can think about is whether or not they're watching me. I promise you. I don't know where they are."

Bellamy nodded. That was all he needed to believe her. A sidelong glance at Clarke revealed something interesting. She didn't seem worried like before. Her face was resolute, determined. Good. That was how he felt too. He wasn't going to let anything happen to Madi or Clarke, no matter what.

(He would find out later that he was never going to be able to keep that promise. There was still so much he didn't know.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

After Madi excused herself and the interview finished, Bellamy still found himself at a bit of a loss as to where to start. That was a lot of information, enough to send him down a rabbit hole of theories and ideas. This time tomorrow, he would have a plan of action. He was standing up to leave, coat in hand when Clarke stopped him with a hand on his arm. His skin felt warm where she'd touched it, in a good way, but not in a way Bellamy was used to. Her hands were soft, no surprise there.

"Wait a minute," she said, turning and entering the kitchen in a way that let him know he was meant to follow her. He did, somewhat reluctantly. What he really wanted to do was get home and lay out everything he knew about the case, especially since Madi wasn't able to provide good descriptions of the guys who confronted her. All he knew was that they were both white, in their thirties maybe, brownish or maybe blondish and they looked tall, at least to her. That didn't mean much considering she was only about 5'3". Bellamy found that when people were scared, it was hard to remember exact descriptions. Not at all like on TV when people were suddenly gifted with photographic memory. Besides, it was dark when it happened, no doubt because they wanted it that way. However she was able to remember one very key detail: they pulled up in a blue Cadillac with no fender. Now, that wasn't the kind of car you'd see just anywhere.

But within moments he was leaning on Clarke's kitchen counter as she had her back to him, facing the stove. There was silence before she turned to face him. "I know that was a lot of information."

"No worries, Princess. It's my job." When he realized the nickname he'd been using in his head before meeting her had slipped out, he half-wondered if he'd get fired on the spot. But Clarke just looked half-amused, half-annoyed.

Then, she went on. "First thing tomorrow, you need to find Jasper Jordan."

"Jasper? Is he wrapped up in this?" Bellamy knew of Jasper the way he knew the general landscape of the drug scene in Arkadia. From his understanding, Jasper was a relatively harmless dealer, notable for not making any enemies. His main two motives seemed to be getting high and making a little extra cash if he could.

"I don't know. But he was one of the last people to see Grey alive. They were pretty good friends. And he flies under the radar enough that he knows more than you'd think. He'd be a good place to start. He'll talk to you if you're nice to him."

"Okay. I'll start there. Thanks," Bellamy said, a little surprised. Maybe being partners with Clarke wouldn't just be Princess playing dress-up. He probably shouldn't underestimate her. That was a mistake people made a lot, underestimating people you shouldn't, but it was lethal if you were a PI. Clarke nodded, turning back to the stove, and in spite of himself, Bellamy's stomach rumbled. Loudly.

Clarke's head spun around. "You want some?"

"I said I ate already."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Really, Clarke, I'm fine," Bellamy said, in a tone he hoped sounded final, but Clarke was unswayed.

"Come on, let me feed you. You don't have to eat here. I'll even put in extra for, you know… whoever Raven was talking about."

He hesitated. He didn't want to linger here and give her the idea that they'd become friends or something, but it would be nice not to have to worry about cooking for his sister. That is, if she hadn't already cooked for him. He'd tried his best, but it seemed that the best he could do was buttered noodles. And those were typically a little too al dente for both of their tastes. So he agreed and Clarke grabbed some containers from a cabinet above the oven.

Lasagna. It looked really good, actually. Really warm. And even though she told him he could take it to go, she slid a slice toward him on a plate, and a slice in a container. So it looked like she had a little more to say to him. He took a seat on the stool and let her talk. It didn't take long. "Madi is the only person I have left. I need to know that you understand that."

She said it earnestly, simply, almost defiantly. Like she was daring him to make less of what she said, to laugh, maybe, or to lie. Like that's what people might have done before. Clarke didn't know yet that Bellamy was the last person who would ever laugh at something like that. "I understand, Clarke. Trust me."

She looked relieved. A little less serious now. "Good. Because I don't have anyone else. So nothing can happen to her. I hired you because you're supposed to be the best, so be the best."

Bellamy nodded, met her eyes so she'd know he meant it. There was a depth in them that scared him a little bit. It was beautiful, but it was frightening. He wanted to shake himself out of it, so he tried to joke. "No one else? I mean, you don't even have any friends?" he said, his mouth half full, immediately feeling like an asshole when Clarke responded, "I had one. He died."

So maybe she wasn't the joking kind. Or maybe that just wasn't a very funny joke. "Your dad?" he asked gently.

Clarke looked surprised. "No. His name was Wells. Actually, it was after everything that happened, which I guess you read about in the paper like everyone else." He looked guiltily down at his plate. It was just a story to him then. He would never have imagined this brave and stoic girl at the heart of it. "What you probably didn't read was that my mom killed my dad because she was high out of her mind that day. She almost killed me. So you see, I know my way around the drug scene in Arkadia, too. I had to know enough to keep my mom out of it if I could. But after that, I left. I haven't spoken to her since."

"And Wells?" Bellamy asked, almost scared to hear her answer.

Clarke winced as if she was in pain just at the sound of his name. Without thinking about it, Bellamy slid his hand across the table and held it over hers. At his touch, she seemed able to go on. "It was an accident. A mugging. I hadn't spoken to him in a really long time. Once I left my mom, I wanted to leave that whole life behind. Wells wasn't ready to. And by the time I realized it didn't matter to him if I ever spoke to my mom again, he was gone." She paused briefly, pulling her hand away and turning back to the stove so he couldn't see her face. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment. Bellamy didn't know what was going to come out of his mouth until he said it. "Her name's Octavia." Clarke froze, but didn't turn around. Bellamy tried his best not to look at her. "That's my sister. That's who Raven was talking about. Our mom died when she was six and I was eighteen. I've been looking after her ever since. So I promise that when I say I understand how much Madi means to you, I'm telling the truth. And I'll do everything I can to keep her safe - to keep both of you safe."

Clarke stood with her back to him a moment longer, before finally turning around, smiling a little bit. "Thank you, Bellamy."

He was tempted to say it was just his job, but he had that feeling, like he always did on cases where someone was in serious trouble, that he would have done it for free. When a kid was in trouble, Bellamy couldn't walk away.

(He would soon realize that it wasn't just the case he couldn't walk away from. But by then, it would already be too late.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin! next update should (hopefully) be within the next few days.


	3. Jasper Jordan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy follows up on Clarke's lead and develops his first working theory. Afterwards, he repays Clarke for the lasagna and breaks one of his cardinal rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, first off i want to say how sorry i am for the late update! i really didn't mean to let it go this long, especially when this chapter was already written, but i was moving into my new apartment this week and it took up literally all of my time. this is the marking of bellamy's first theory which is a Big Deal! I used bright yellow post-its each time bellamy got a new theory or adjusted it so I could keep track. it's a bit of a filler chapter, but the next one will be fun.
> 
> there are more clues in this one, but it's a bit more subtle than last chapter. you can expect updates every couple of days from now on, i just haven't had the chance to write and i don't want to make ppl wait. but i have the next five chapters pre-written, so i think we're good on that front. anyways, i would love to hear your thoughts <3

The Dropship was a lot less seedy than it looked on the outside. Bellamy had gone in, ordered a sandwich and now he was watching Jasper work. He looked like he was about Madi's age, maybe a little older. He hadn't met Jasper before, only heard his name thrown around a few times, but he certainly looked like the harmless teenage druggie that he was rumored to be. The sandwich was good, too. After finishing and paying, Bellamy went and sat in his car that he'd parked across the street and waited for the kid's break to start.

Admittedly, it felt a bit odd to be doing this stuff in broad daylight. But this was where Jasper worked and Bellamy wasn't trying to scare him or anything. He needed information and he was following Clarke's lead. The Dropship had glass windows, so as Bellamy saw Jasper untying his apron, he headed back across the street to catch him when he came out. "Jasper Jordan?"

The kid's head flew up, eyes wide. "Yeah? Sorry, who are you?"

"Care to take a walk with me?"

"Uh…" Jasper looked around, but the streets were relatively empty. "I was supposed to meet up with my friend Monty."

"Monty can wait. Come on." Maybe Bellamy was a bit surprised when that turned out to be all the coaxing the kid needed, but he didn't let that surprise show on his face. Bellamy wasn't leading him in any specific direction, though Jasper kept looking forward, back, left, right. Maybe he was high right now, because he was definitely acting paranoid. "You know why I'm here, Jasper?" Bellamy found it was better to keep the questions vague. If you were too specific, people would only answer what you asked and nothing more. They knew how to lie. If you kept the questions vague enough, people tended to let slip a lot more than you needed them to.

And Jasper fed right into his bait. "The drugs, I guess?"

Bellamy stopped, and Jasper stopped too. "You know where they are?" Bellamy asked.

"No, man, I swear to god, I don't." The kid looked so pale Bellamy worried he might pass out. It was then that Bellamy realized Jasper thought he was one of the guys who had been harrassing Madi. Okay. Should have thought this through better. Scared people don't tell you the truth. They tell you whatever they think will make you go away.

"Relax, Jasper. I'm not a dealer. I'm a PI."

Jasper's entire body sagged in relief, placing a hand over his heart. "Jesus Christ. Why didn't you say so?"

Bellamy ignored the question. "You know where they are or not?"

"Not exactly."

"What does 'not exactly' mean?"

"Can we be more specific about which drugs we're talking about?"

"Grey's drugs. Your friend Grey."

Jasper's face sobered. "Right. Yeah, Grey was a good guy. It sucks what happened to him. He shouldn't have dipped into that stash."

"Can you tell me when you saw Grey last?" That was the direction Clarke had steered him in, so that was where Bellamy would start.

"The day he died. He gave me some of his new stuff, we got high together, and then I didn't see him again."

"Right - this new stuff. What's the big deal? Where did he get it?"

"I'm pretty sure he stole it," Jasper said, almost casually. But when he clocked the look on Bellamy's face, he winced, like maybe he'd slipped up.

"Stole it? From who?"

"Well, stole is, you know, a strong word. I mean, he was handling it," Jasper said, recovering nicely. Handling. So he was holding drugs that someone else stole. Bellamy had a feeling he knew exactly who the drugs were stolen from.

"Okay. And how'd you know I was here about the drugs?" he asked Jasper, trying to catch him by surprise. Jasper's immediate response earlier didn't really suggest uninvolvement.

But his reply seemed earnest and genuine. "I would never have taken the drugs if I knew what they were. Everyone knows that the new guys are out for blood."

He figured that was referring to the guys blackmailing Madi. "The new guys?"

"Yeah. Showed up on the scene about a month ago. I don't know their names, though. They're bad news. I try to steer clear of bad news."

"Right. That's why you became a dealer," Bellamy said, unimpressed, but Jasper sighed.

"Look, dude, I never lie, I don't upcharge, and I definitely don't steal. I'm about as trustworthy as they come when it comes to this stuff. Haven't you ever needed some extra cash?"

Bellamy elected not to answer that. The truth was, without his detective job, he knew what desperation was capable of doing to him. Jasper was right. He shouldn't be judged for that. At least not by Bellamy.

"Thanks for the help, kid. I'll be in touch."

"I'm pretty sure I'm only six years younger than you, you know."

"Isn't Monty waiting?"

So after another comment under his breath that Bellamy elected not to hear, he was off again, leaving Bellamy with his first theory: Grey was holding the drugs for the guys blackmailing Madi, but he died before he could deliver them. At least it meant that the people tormenting her were probably relatively harmless idiots. But still, he didn't like to underestimate his opponents. Now that he knew Grey and Madi's blackmailers had been working together, things made more sense. And if the drugs were stolen, Bellamy was 90% sure he knew who they were stolen from.

First things first, though. Time to find that blue Cadillac, missing fender and all.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

After a long day of going to various places around Arkadia and asking if they'd seen a fenderless blue Cadillac, Bellamy had yielded no results. He'd checked the DMV for the registration of blue Cadillacs, but it turned up too many results to be helpful, and none of the names looked familiar. He'd just have to keep asking around. Blue Cadillacs are infrequent enough, but the missing fender should seal the deal. That was memorable. Someone should be able to tell him where they saw it.

So, aside from his talk with Jasper, not a very productive day, which meant that there was no reason to be on his way to Clarke's right now, let alone with a large pizza. Octavia was staying at a friend's house to "study," as if he didn't know exactly what that meant, but she was eighteen, about to graduate high school. God knows Bellamy did his fair share of sneaking out when he was a teenager. And besides, she deserved to be a kid if she could be. Life hadn't always been easy for them. So he was trying to lay off the overprotective brother thing a bit. Luckily, he could channel all his overprotective energy into this case.

His fist was hovering over Clarke's door before he realized that he should use the key or else she'd laugh at him. It felt weird, like a violation of her privacy, but this was what his client had instructed him to do. So with one hand awkwardly trying to balance the pizza and the other hand rifling through his pocket, he managed to find the key and get it into the lock.

When he opened the door, Clarke was sitting in the room, writing in some sort of journal. She looked up, seeing Bellamy struggling with his pizza and his key. "You could have knocked if you needed help," she said.

"Didn't need help. Thought I'd repay you for the lasagna."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well, it was on my way. Best pizza in Arkadia, too. Is Madi around?"

Clarke shook her head, but she didn't seem worried. "She's at work. But don't worry. No night shifts, she gets a ride there and back, and Indra is the manager there."

"Indra?"

"Trust me, Madi's in good hands."

Bellamy nodded. That meant they were here alone. He didn't know why that gave him a slight thrill. Or maybe he did know and was trying his best to remain professional.

"So?"

Right. The case. He forgot exactly why he was here for a moment. He set the pizza down on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat next to Clarke. "Not much, I'm afraid. Jasper told me something interesting though. Did you know the drugs were stolen?"

From the look on Clarke's face, it seemed that she didn't.

"Stolen from who?"

"Well, that's the thing. I think whoever's blackmailing Madi stole the drugs and Grey was holding them for those guys. He dipped into the stash when he shouldn't have, they were more potent than he thought, and these guys don't know where to find them."

"So these guys don't just want these drugs, they're in deep shit without them."

"That's what I'm thinking. That's probably where the urgency comes from. I don't know how much is missing, but it must be a lot for them to be so determined to get them back. And if they've stolen a lot, then that means they need to get out of town as soon as possible."

"But you don't know who the drugs are stolen from?"

Bellamy considered that question for a moment. "I have my suspicions. But it might cause more problems if I went and talked to him, so my first order of business is finding this Cadillac Madi was talking about."

Clarke nodded, looking away. "And how's that going?"

"Could be going better. If I could access some sort of database, it would be a lot easier… You're sure about this no cops thing?"

"Yes," Clarke said, immediately and firmly. "Only in cases of life or death."

"You don't think it'll come to that, though… Do you?"

Clarke paused. Bellamy was dying to know what she was thinking. "Nothing can happen to Madi."

Bellamy nodded. "Nothing will. But I'm not just talking about Madi here."

She bit her lip. "I'm the only person she has. I know that. I also know that means that if they get more desperate, they could try and use me to get to her. I'm not stupid. But I can take care of myself. As long as she's safe, that's all that matters."

It wasn't quite the answer Bellamy was looking for, but it was a familiar one. The things he would do for Octavia, just so she could be safe and happy and protected. God, the things he used to do just so that she'd be clean and fed. Any thought of his own safety flew out the window. For him, that was stupid. But the way Clarke wore it, it almost seemed brave.

He looked down at the table, at the notebook Clarke had been writing in when he'd walked through the door. Except it wasn't a notebook at all. It was a sketchbook. And she'd been drawing him. She followed his gaze to the drawing, her face flushing with what Bellamy hoped wasn't embarrassment.

"Oh, god. Sorry. I didn't mean for you to see that. It's not finished yet."

"No, I'm flattered," he teased, reaching for it. It was actually pretty lovely. It made him look softer than he really was. "I had no idea you found me so inspiring."

She snatched the sketchbook away from him. "Just so you know, I draw every new person I meet. You're not special. See?" She flipped a few pages back, showing Madi's face of course, but also some others he didn't recognize. Raven's face showed up, and he looked down at the drawing with a fond smile. "I usually ask first, but…"

"But you couldn't help yourself?"

Clarke glared at him. "It was an interesting challenge. I was trying to figure out the right shading for your freckles."

Bellamy almost laughed, but he stole another glimpse at the drawing and saw exactly what she meant. He used to hate his freckles. Up until about two minutes ago, he hated them. Now they were his favorite feature. And he had to admit, it was a good drawing. Rough, but intimate. "You're an artist?"

"I don't know. It's the only thing I love to do. It's why I dropped out of med school."  
"Right, I remember you telling me about that. What was that all about in the first place?"

"I was following my mother's footsteps. She's a doctor, or I guess she used to be one. But it was hard to see the profession as honorable once I realized where she was getting all her drugs."

Bellamy wanted to reach out, maybe hold her hand, touch her shoulder, let her know he was there. But they barely knew each other and he didn't want her to feel weird. So he just listened.

"It was nice being able to help people, but I couldn't see the job the same way again. So I draw. I did work at a coffee shop, but I quit when everything with Madi started. I guess the more accurate phrase is 'took a leave of absence.' I needed to be available, and I have enough money from my dad's will that taking a few months off isn't going to hurt."

"Coffee shop… Are you talking about Mecca? Is that how you know Raven?"

"Yeah," Clarke said, smiling. And then the smile fell a little. "Haven't really talked to her since everything started except to get your info."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Bellamy said, before realizing how weird a thing that was to say. But Clarke just smiled. "I guess I should get out of your hair," he said, standing up.

"Wait," Clarke said. "You brought over an entire pizza and you're not gonna have any?"

"I thought you and Madi could split it."

"This thing is huge and she's not going to be back for another hour." She suddenly looked shy. It made her look beautiful. "You have something to get back to at home?"

"Octavia's at a friend's house."

"Alright… You wanna watch a movie?"

This was completely unprecedented. Bellamy had had plenty of attractive clients before and he'd never gotten involved with any of them. Well, there was Raven, but that was a full year after her case was through. But Clarke was looking at him with these sparkling blue eyes and he found himself unable to say no. There was something about her. She was easy to talk to. He'd never opened up about Octavia that soon to anyone. But he felt like he could trust her.

And even without all of that, anyone would agree that she was admirable. So, eating the best pizza Arkadia had to offer, sitting on her couch and watching a trashy adaptation of some bestseller from a few years back, Bellamy broke his number one rule: Don't let the case get personal.

(It was all downhill from there.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin!


	4. Rulebreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy breaks one of Clarke's rules. Then he follows a fresh lead, bringing him to an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a bit filler where the bellamy/clarke content is concerned but it's very important for the mystery! it's probably the last chill chapter, if you could call any of them chill, bc from here on out shit gets REAL. like i'm talking very beginning of the next chapter. like i said, there are clues everywhere, and there are more clues in this one if you catch it. this isn't my best chapter, i think the second half is much better than the first, but i'm pretty proud of what goes down here on out
> 
> and the bellamy/roan dynamic was criminally underdeveloped in the show, i just had to make my complex brotp dreams come true. anyways. comments make my entire life, and kudos are always appreciated. <3

Bellamy's search for the blue Cadillac remained unfruitful and was starting to seem futile, but without that car, he had nowhere to start. He was starting to get reluctant to go to Clarke's place. He hated facing her with no new leads knowing that she was paying him, so he insisted on bringing take-out every night. She offered to pay at least her part, but Bellamy insisted that since he was on her payroll, this was the least he could do. And he felt a bit ashamed. He wanted to be making more progress than this.

Clarke didn't judge. The guys harassing Madi had sent a few more letters, but none of them were particularly frightening and Clarke seemed to understand why he was running into trouble. One night, he couldn't help but apologize. He felt helpless. He felt like quitting. He felt like refusing to take her money. But all he said was sorry. Clarke took his hand, telling him that she trusted him. That she knew how hard he was working and that she knew he'd do what he could to keep Madi safe.

No one had ever had that much faith in him except for Octavia, and maybe not even Octavia. So he kept coming over, eating dinner with her, and watching movies on her couch, their pinkies moving closer and closer to each other. By the end of the week, they were holding hands.

But Bellamy felt guilty. He couldn't let her down. And not letting her down, for now, meant breaking her one rule. He called Miller. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Bellamy was nervous. He knew he could trust Miller. But he didn't know how much to give away. "Hey. I'm working on this case and I was wondering if you might know something."  
"Yeah, alright, hit me."

"I've been looking for a blue Cadillac. Any significant sightings?" Bellamy chose not to mention the missing fender. Chances were, there weren't two of them riding around, which just made him more stumped why no one had seen it.

Miller was quiet for a long time. "You talking about Lovejoy?"

"Might be. Dunno. Who's that?"

"You didn't catch it in the news? He was found shot in the back of the head in a blue Cadillac in the forest behind Shadow Valley Park. No one found him for two days. Whoever did the job made sure they hid him well."

Bellamy paused, thinking. Could be related. He could google the case, see if anything else was mentioned in the article.

But Miller eliminated the need for that. "Oh, and the car had a missing fender. That what you're looking for?" Was Bellamy imagining it, or did Miller sound suspicious?

"No," he said, lost in thought. "Not the car I had in mind. Thanks anyway." He hung up without waiting for an answer. Before, Bellamy thought these guys were relatively harmless. They were just trying to get back their stolen drugs. But now? Now Bellamy had a whole different thing to worry about. Who was killing these guys? He was pretty sure he knew. Whoever they stole the drugs from was taking his revenge. That meant Madi wasn't safe.

First, head to Clarke's, tell her what he found. Then? Time to talk to Roan.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy went straight over. It was getting late, and he was going to have to get an early start the next morning. He didn't even think before placing his key in the lock, something that had become second nature over the course of the last week. When he walked in, Madi and Clarke were sitting on the couch, watching something. But for Clarke, all it took was one look at Bellamy for her to realize that he wanted to talk in private.

She followed him into the kitchen and as soon as the door was closed, she said, "What's up?"

"I found the blue Cadillac," he said. Her face was hard to read. But it was clear she wanted him to go on. "The guy who owned it was murdered, left in his car, and abandoned behind Shadow Valley."

Clarke's face didn't change but she let out a breath. "Shit," she said.

"You need to be really careful. I don't know who did it, but I'm guessing it's the same guy they stole the drugs from. Now, I'm going to find out first thing tomorrow, but if that guy thinks Madi has the drugs…"

Clarke didn't need him to finish the sentence. "Understood. She'll be safe."

"Okay. I'm gonna head out, I've got to get an early start. I'll be over as soon as I'm done. You have my number, let me know if anything happens." He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

Clarke Griffin had a habit of surprising him, but when she wrapped her arms around him, he was so stunned he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Be safe, Bellamy."

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her too. She smelled nice, a little citrusy. And it felt good to rest his chin on top of her head. "You too," he said, his voice coming out in a whisper. Then, with a deep breath, he reluctantly pulled away. There was concern in her eyes, and he felt a silent thrill knowing it was for him.

A month ago, Bellamy would have been able to see that he was headed towards a problem. He wouldn't be able to keep a level head if Octavia was involved in something like this, and he was pretty close to losing it now. But one thing was for sure: he wasn't going to be able to rest until this case was solved and Clarke was safe. Mark his fucking words.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Just before Bellamy was out the door the next morning, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. His stomach dropped through the floor when he saw on his caller ID that it was Clarke. He picked up at lightning speed, already thinking of everything that might have gone wrong, any number of horrible things that could be happening to her or Madi, but when he answered, Clarke's voice came out casually. "Hey, Bellamy."

"What's up? Why'd you call?"

"I know that you're working this morning. I got roped into going out with Raven tonight. Don't worry, Madi's staying at Indra's, she'll be safe. But I thought maybe you could come over this afternoon instead to debrief?"

"That's it? That's why you called?"

"I know you usually come at night, but I want to make sure I don't miss whatever you find out today." She paused. "Also, I want to make sure that things went okay."

There was that little thrill again, the one he got whenever Clarke showed she cared. "Jesus, Princess, you scared the crap out of me. I thought someone had died or something."

She laughed. Bellamy smiled at the sound. "Sorry to worry you. I'll run out and grab lunch for us, too, so don't worry about bringing take out. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you." He was suddenly eager to finish this meeting. So with an afternoon with Clarke as his incentive, Bellamy steeled himself to go where he usually tried not to venture. It was time to set foot in Azgeda for the first time in years.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It was just as seedy as Bellamy remembered. The bar opened at 12:30, but anyone who had been around long enough knew that it didn't truly open until seven. If you set foot in Azgeda before then, people knew you had business to attend to. As soon as he stepped inside, three burly looking men looked in his direction, suspicion written all over their faces.

Bellamy remained unphased. "I'm here to see Roan."

The bartender was the only one to speak. There was a mean look about him. "Roan doesn't see anyone until after seven. Why don't you come back then?"

Bellamy sighed, rolling his eyes. These men didn't scare him. "Tell him Bellamy Blake is here to see him."

"I don't think I take orders from you."

"Just tell him."

The bartender hesitated for a moment before looking over to one of the other men and nodding once. Bellamy waited patiently, but he didn't have to wait long. Within one minute, the man was begrudgingly motioning for him to enter the backroom. Truthfully, Bellamy didn't feel like going in anyway. But he did.

Roan was greeting him with a smile, sitting behind a desk as if what he did was strictly business-related. Well, maybe it seemed that way to him. "Detective Blake. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Bellamy avoided the question, at least for now. "I'd say it's good to see you, Roan, but then I'd be lying."

"Pleasant way to start a conversation. But I suppose you wouldn't be here unless you wanted something. Why don't you take a seat?"

Bellamy obliged, sitting down across from the man he once considered a friend. Long way from those days. "Actually, I'm here to discuss something you want."

Roan smiled, leaning across the desk towards Bellamy. "Now that's more like it."

"I believe you're missing some drugs," Bellamy said, casually.

Roan didn't flinch. "That would be news to me."

Bellamy didn't, either, but that answer wasn't exactly what he was expecting. Still, Roan wouldn't be admitting to anything if there was murder involved. That was new territory for him as far as Bellamy knew. "Come off it, Roan. Don't bullshit me."

"I would never, Detective. I thought you knew that," Roan said, a slow smile spreading across his face. Great. Now Bellamy was being mocked.

"Look. I know that your drugs were stolen and I know that you know who stole them. I just need their names, that's all. Then we can be done here."

The smile left Roan's face, replaced by a look of irritation. "When I tell you I don't know what you're talking about, you should believe me."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"Why would I lie? I haven't been uncooperative in the past, have I?"

"You would be if you were trying to cover your tracks."

"If I'm trying to cover something up, why don't you enlighten me on what it is?"

Bellamy didn't want to mess around. "Murder."

Roan was silent for a moment. And then, to Bellamy's surprise, he started to laugh, low and amused. It made Bellamy angry. This was not a joke. This was real. People he cared about were in danger. "Do you really think so little of me, Bellamy?" Roan said, acting wounded. It was the first time since entering that Roan had used Bellamy's first name and it threw him for a loop. But an appeal to their former friendship wasn't going to work, not on Bellamy.

"It's the only thing that makes sense." They both stared each other down. Bellamy decided that it was time to place all cards on the table, risky as the move was. "Lovejoy was found shot dead in his car."

Roan raised his eyebrows. "I see. You think he stole my drugs and I had him killed for it."

"Something like that."

"And you're supposed to be a detective? Tell me, Bellamy, since I took charge of Arkadia, have there been any bodies found in connection to a drug-related incident?"

Bellamy had to shake his head. There hadn't. Not counting the OD's.

"Exactly. I play rough, but I don't kill. I'm sure you remember what it was like before. You should know, you worked with me on the case that took the last guys down. Drug dealers, rival gangs, everyone was killing each other left and right. Then you and I, we cleaned up. But you were a rookie, Bellamy. You aren't even a cop. I'd been working in this city for years and I had seen this cycle before. It was just going to start up again unless somebody stepped in. I knew where the drugs came from, who distributed them. Everything I needed to know to lock those guys up was exactly what I needed to know to run this neighborhood. I could do more good here than I could on the force. Someone like you would never have the temperament for a job like this. But someone had to fill this vacancy. Why not me? Why not someone like me, who could do it right?"

Bellamy hated being reminded of his role in Roan's career shift. Bellamy met Roan when he was working on the force. He was supposed to be one of the honorable cops. During that time, Bellamy still believed such a thing existed. Even more meaningful to Bellamy, Roan had taken a chance on him when he was just starting out. Cops were reluctant to work with PIs, especially rookies. But together they brought down the drug ring in Arkadia. Of course, as Bellamy later realized, they brought it down only for Roan to fill the vacancy. That was when Bellamy learned exactly how little he could trust his allies on the force. He was looking right at the reason Clarke didn't want to go to the cops. But Roan made a good point. Bellamy had to admit that.

"Once I was the only kingpin around here, I knew enough to squash any newcomers trying to rival me. I didn't do it by murdering them and you know that."

That was true. Bellamy knew Roan. He knew that everything Roan was saying made sense. The more he spoke, the less Bellamy believed that he had killed Lovejoy. But then who had killed him? It had to be Roan. There was no one else to steal from.

Roan kept speaking, saying more than Bellamy knew him to say typically. "I've known from the beginning that my only danger was someone from the outside, someone who was already organized. I've had a good run here. I've made the neighborhood safer than it ever was. But all good things must come to an end."

"What?" Now Bellamy was completely lost. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Roan was retiring.

"I'm thinking of getting out while I still can. These new guys moving in, they're no good. They're bad news, Bellamy. I want nothing to do with it. So whatever your little theory is, keep me out of it."

"Wait." This was the new lead Bellamy had been looking for. "What new guys?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Roan said, amused. Bellamy forced himself not to roll his eyes. "I don't know much about them. I know Lovejoy was one of them. And I know that they hang around Mount Weather."

"The new bar on 73rd?"

"That would be the one."

Bellamy stayed frozen in the chair for a long moment, lost in thought. Then, slowly he unstuck himself. "Thanks for the help, Roan." He tried to sound sincere.

"I'd watch yourself with this one, Detective. You may be in for more than you bargained for."

Bellamy nodded, letting the words roll over him. He was not dropping this case, not for all the money in the world. But there was a big complication with his working theory. If the drugs weren't stolen from Roan, then it was unlikely they were stolen from anywhere else, at least not in Arkadia, which meant that you wouldn't need someone in Arkadia to handle them until you could get out of town. He wanted to curse himself for believing Jasper. Always believe the first thing out of someone's mouth, no matter what they say next to cover up.

Jasper said that Grey had stolen the drugs. And if Roan was telling the truth, and Bellamy was pretty sure he was, then that meant Lovejoy and his accomplice weren't the type to have stolen anything. So that meant that Grey stole the drugs from whoever was harassing Madi, whoever Lovejoy was working with, which brought him just about back to square one, this time with a solid lead: Lovejoy had friends at Mount Weather. Bellamy would just have to be there Friday night.

There was one question bothering him, though. A question that had been bothering him since leaving the bar. If Roan wasn't guilty, then who had murdered Lovejoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin! next chapter should be up tuesday!


	5. In Too Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are raised. Bellamy and Clarke spend a night out with Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probs my fav chapter yet tho idk how well done the beginning is. but. this is all bellarke content and a bit of a break from the mystery, though as always, there are clues ;) i cannot wait for you guys to see how this all comes together, i'm having the time of my life writing this fic! 
> 
> anyways thank you for any comments bc let me say im always dying to know what everyone is thinking, so it means a whole big lot to me any time anyone leaves a review. lmk what you think, and another update should be out around saturday!

By the time Bellamy made it to Clarke's, he had about a million different theories, none of them quite right. Mostly, he was concerned with how much danger Madi was in. If there was a clear motive for the murders, then Bellamy would be able to tell, but there wasn't. As far as he knew, these guys were killing each other. He wanted to get going, but good detectives knew the importance of patience. He had a really solid lead. He just had to wait until Friday night when he could go to Mount Weather and shake up some info. Most of the time, being a PI was just about being in the right place at the right time. Bellamy was pretty sure he could manage that.

He had a lot to unpack with Clarke. And he was admittedly eager to see her. He wondered if she'd have some insights about his new information. She tended to surprise him that way. Besides, he didn't know much about Mount Weather, or even the area surrounding it. He hadn't even known it was a drug hotspot. So maybe Clarke knew something about that. He went straight from Roan's to Clarke's, unlocking the door with his key without giving it a second thought. He entered the apartment to silence.

For a moment, Bellamy thought he'd arrived while Clarke was out getting food for them like she said she'd do. He felt a little embarrassed. He'd become used to letting himself in, but he was always greeted by a hello from Clarke. And even though she'd said not to feel weird about it, he did a little bit. Still, he ventured inside, setting his jacket down. He didn't know what to do with himself, whether to sit or stay standing, so he was starting to think over the case again, go over the facts he knew in light of this new information, when something shiny caught his eye.

The kitchen door was closed, as it usually was. But right in front of it was what looked like a shard of glass. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows, finding that strange. He moved closer. It was small, but he was definitely right about what it was. But as soon as he identified it, Bellamy identified where it came from. It had come from under the kitchen door. In truth, it was his instincts as a detective and nothing more that pushed him to open the door and see where the glass had come from.

But his mind went completely blank when what he found was Clarke, on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. Clarke on the floor, with her eyes closed, not moving. Clarke - Clarke - Clarke! He heard her name, distantly realizing that it was his voice shouting it out.

He collapsed to his knees by her side, his hand on her shoulder, shaking her just roughly enough to try and wake her up. When nothing happened, his heart plummeted to the floor. "Clarke, can you hear me?" She didn't even stir. His hand flew to his pocket, reaching for his phone to dial 911, but at the last minute, he remembered what she'd told him. What she'd made him promise.

Clarke was starting to mean more to him than he could have imagined possible. But she was still his client. And she was still his friend. So even though every ounce of his reason was telling him to do otherwise, Bellamy put down the phone. He pressed his fingers to her skin and took her pulse, relieved to find it beating steadily. She didn't look pale, and she wasn't bleeding. The shattered glass looked as if it was from one of her cups. So maybe someone hit her?

Or maybe - frantically, Bellamy scanned the room for anything out of place, any clue about just how much danger Clarke was in. He needed to know how worried he needed to be because as of right now, his fears were overwhelming him. Good detectives were rational. He had to try and shut off his heart for a moment so his head could think. As soon as he accomplished that task, which had been far more difficult than usual, he saw it.

A note stuck to Clarke's typically clean fridge. Carefully, he moved away from her, still keeping her in his periphery and plucked it off. The note was typed and unsigned, but Bellamy knew exactly who had left it. "We don't leave warnings twice. Next time it will be poison. Get me what you owe me."

The first stirrings of tentative relief started to settle in Bellamy, but he had to be sure. He opened the door to the fridge and took out the filtered water. Bellamy always used tap and she pestered him about how unhealthy Arkadia's water supply was. If Bellamy was right, she wouldn't pester him again. He grabbed another glass, poured a small amount of water into it and took the smallest of sips. There it was.

If he wasn't paying attention, it would have tasted just like regular water. But Bellamy had come into contact with this before, another time on another job. Underneath the crisp, cold taste of water was the faintest hint of citrus. His heart was still racing, and he knew he wouldn't rest easy until she opened her eyes, but Clarke was going to be alright. She'd sleep for a couple of hours, that was all.

He was taking it one step at a time. For now, his only priority was taking care of Clarke. But at the back of his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore what this meant forever: that the stakes had just gotten raised even higher, and Bellamy needed to come to terms with how far he was willing to go.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

In this memory, Bellamy is carrying Clarke to the couch, making sure she's comfortable, mopping up the spilled water and cleaning up the broken glass. But the bullet isn't just getting closer. It's changing course. And now… well. It's finally left the gun.

And Bellamy doesn't know it yet, but it's only a matter of time.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He tried going over the case while he waited for Clarke to wake up, but it was no use. He couldn't focus on anything until she opened her eyes and he knew for certain that she was alright. He hadn't realized how big his problem was until now, but there was no ignoring the fact that he was in way deeper than he'd thought. He knew he cared about her, but the thirty seconds he spent wondering whether or not she was dying were the scariest moments of his life and the clarity those heart-pounding moments provided hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Clarke was one of the most important people to him in the world now, second only to Octavia. There was no telling the lengths he would go to to protect her. To keep her safe. And working the job he was working, that could be very, very bad news. Especially now that he had no idea who was killing the very people threatening Clarke. Especially now that he had no idea whether or not that was a bad thing.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He was at her side when she woke up, as he had been for the last two and a half hours. The time seemed to pass slowly and quickly at the same time. Bellamy felt almost numb, like now that the shock of his realization was over, he didn't know how to process it. But the world came rushing back as she stirred. He had been sitting in the armchair, but now he knelt down by her side, taking her hand in his.

Her eyes went from drowsy to confused to scared in a moment, but once she heard his voice and saw him beside her, they grew calm. "You're safe," he said softly. "I'm here."

"Bellamy?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, but hearing it had an instant effect on him. She was alright. Everything was okay now.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Clarke shook her head, but he could see her starting to piece it together. "I came back with our food, I poured myself a glass of water, and then…" She shook her head. And then it all went dark, Bellamy finished the thought in his head.

"Was there a note on your fridge?"

"What? No. I would've noticed."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," Clarke said unhesitatingly. Bellamy sighed, putting his head in his hands. That meant that Lovejoy's partner was in her apartment at the same time she was. That meant that he stepped over Clarke on the fucking floor and put that note on her fridge. That meant that they were lucky she was only knocked out when she could easily have been killed. But, Bellamy realized, that was exactly what this guy wanted them to know.

"Clarke, maybe it's time to go to the -"

"No," she said sharply, sitting up. Bellamy had to help her. "Let me see the note."

He handed it to her, watching as she read it intently. Then she looked up at him. "We can't tell Madi about this."

That threw Bellamy for a loop. "She should know what happened."

"If she knew where the drugs were, maybe I'd agree with you, because then she'd have a decision to make. But this will only scare her."

Bellamy's voice was quiet. "Maybe she should be scared."

Clarke looked at him, and he could tell from her expression that she was taking in the haunted look on his face. "Bellamy…"

"I'm scared. Aren't you?"

Clarke looked down at the note again. "No. Because I know you've got me. And I know they're not going to win." But when she looked at him, he knew she was lying. And he loved her for that. "So tell me what you learned at your meeting."

With those words, all the facts came rushing back and his brain settled comfortably into detective mode. "Grey wasn't holding stolen drugs. He stole the drugs from Lovejoy and his partner."

Clarke nodded, but he could tell she didn't understand the significance of that fact. "So what does that mean?"

"It means that Lovejoy's partner is a lot more dangerous than I thought. Though I guess we didn't need a meeting to know that," he said, frowning. "It also means that I don't know who killed Lovejoy. I mean, for all we know it's unrelated." But Bellamy had a feeling, not much more than a gut instinct, that it wasn't.

"Okay. So what's your next move?"

"Well, I know where these guys do business. Mount Weather doesn't open until Friday." It was Tuesday now. "So we have a few days of laying low. And maybe you and Madi should stay at my place."

"No way."

"Clarke -"

"You have your sister to think about. And if we're lucky, these men don't know you're working for me yet. We need to keep it that way."

Bellamy didn't like the answer, but it was a good one. "Fine. Friday night, I'll head there, sniff around, see what I find." One of the most important things when you were a private detective was being in the right place at the right time. And Mount Weather was certainly the right place.

"Alright." Clarke sighed, rubbing her hands over her eyes. Then she looked alarmed. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven. Why?"

"Shit," she said, getting up, but Bellamy was there to catch her when her knees buckled.

"Hey, slow down. What's wrong?"

"I'm supposed to meet Raven in half an hour."

"No way you're still doing that."

Clarke glared at him, but he was standing his ground. Still, she said, "They need to know I'm not scared."

"This is a bad idea, Clarke."

"Maybe. But it's my bad idea, so I'm going."

And by the time she said that, she'd regained enough strength to break away from Bellamy and head towards her bedroom. "Hey, wait a second."

She was reluctant, but she turned to face him. "What?"

"I can't talk you out of it?"

Clarke shook her head.

"Then I'm coming." He'd expected a protest, but she just nodded. After all, he and Raven were friends too. And he realized that maybe she'd feel better if he was at her side. He put his hands in his pocket, resigned to a long night. But when he felt what was in there, an idea occurred to him. He pulled the object out and placed it in her hands.

Clarke frowned. "What's this?"

"A switchblade. My dad gave it to me as a birthday present before he took off and I never saw him again. If you're not gonna stay at my place, I'd feel more comfortable knowing that you had that on you."

Clarke nodded, slipping it into her pocket. She turned away from him then, about to head into the bedroom before pausing and looking over her shoulder. "Bellamy."

"Yeah, Clarke?" he said softly, still feeling the waves of relief rushing over him that she was okay and that he hadn't been too late.

"Thank you for taking care of me." And then she went to go get ready.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy had been to this bar many times before. Partly because it was in a nicer part of Arkadia, and partly because it was Raven's favorite, and they were still old friends, if not close friends. Camp Jaha. It was mostly young people there, but it wasn't the kind of place that blared music so loud you couldn't hear the person next to you. It had almost a homey vibe. The lighting was dim, but only dim enough to make you and your friends seem softer and more beautiful. If Bellamy was the kind of guy who went on dates, he would have planned one here.

Instead, he only went to Camp Jaha when Raven invited him. And now, as he was walking in with Clarke, he saw her sitting at the bar. They'd rushed over, but they were still about ten minutes late. Clarke made it clear they weren't to breathe a word about what just happened. Not about the case in general either. Bellamy didn't think that would be too hard, even though he found it difficult to focus on a night out when he kept thinking of how he'd found Clarke, of what she'd been like just an hour ago.

But unsurprisingly, she was a damn good liar. Or maybe she just wasn't as shaken up as Bellamy was. "Raven!" Clarke shouted, flagging their friend's attention. At the sound of her name, Raven's head swung in their direction, eyes lighting up when she saw Bellamy.

"Bellamy," Raven said, giving him a shit-eating grin already. "Can't believe she managed to drag you out. Unless…" Her face grew unsure. "You're not here on business, are you?"

He knew she was asking because it was Bellamy's policy not to socialize while on the case. But he couldn't exactly tell her that he was here to protect Clarke from anyone who might want to hurt her, so he lied. "Just here to drink."

"Let's get started then." She handed Clarke a cup. "Vodka soda."

Bellamy was trying to figure out the best way to tell Clarke that it was probably unwise to mix alcohol with whatever drugs Lovejoy's partner had slipped her without letting Raven know when she downed the whole thing in almost one gulp.

Raven's laugh was light and breezy, but Bellamy's stomach sank. "Oh, so it's that kinda night, huh?" Raven asked, laughing.

"Yeah," Clarke said, and Bellamy could hear the faint trace of grimness in her voice. "It's that sort of night."

"Alright then. Murphy? Another round."

Bellamy leaned against the counter. "Just two."

Raven's face looked curious while Clarke's looked irritated, but Bellamy didn't care if he was spoiling her night out. "Never known you to hold back."

Bellamy sat down on a stool, already dreading the evening ahead of him. "Yeah, well, I'm the designated driver."

"Clarke can just take the subway like usual. Or Murphy can stop pretending like he's not gonna drive us home as soon as he closes."

"Yeah, can you not broadcast that I do that?" Murphy said, impatiently wiping down the glasses, but he was smiling a little.

"Don't worry. I know I'm your favorite. See? So we're all in good hands."

"I wouldn't exactly call Murphy good hands," Bellamy said. Everyone knew Murphy had a thing for Raven. Even Raven, but no one took it seriously.

"Hey, asshole. How many times have I driven you home?" Murphy said over his shoulder, but there was no real bite to it.

"Come on," Raven said. "Let loose a little, Blake."

This was the moment Bellamy was hoping Clarke would chime in and help, but she remained close-lipped, so he had to try and fool Raven further. Fooling her at all was a hard thing to do. "Not tonight, Raven," he said, hoping that something in his tone sounded final.

It did. But it didn't create the result he had hoped for. Raven narrowed her eyes and said, "You are working, aren't you?"

Murphy looked up, brow furrowed in question. "Working?"

Bellamy sighed, grabbing Raven's wrist and starting to lead her away. "Bellamy," Clarke said in a warning voice as Murphy slid her drink towards her.

"Don't worry," Bellamy said, in as reassuring a voice as he could. "And don't drink that."

"You pull away my girl and now you're driving away my business?"

"Shut up, Murphy."

He found the most secluded space in the bar where he could still keep Clarke in his line of sight and dragged Raven over to it. She wasn't light-hearted and teasing now. Now she was actually kinda pissed. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just… I quit drinking."

Raven paused. "I don't buy it. You're acting way too fucking weird."

"Clarke had a bad day. I'm staying sober so she can drink as much as she wants."

"You realize I just heard you tell her not to drink."

Bellamy blanched. He was a good liar, but he was lousy at lying to his friends. So he settled for an almost truth. "I can't tell you."

She socked him in the arm. "I could have guessed that myself. Look, Clarke is one of my best friends. I gave her your number because I trust you. I don't know why she needs a PI but Clarke doesn't fuck around. If she needed one, she needed one."

"Get to the punchline, please, before she kills me for telling you too much."

"Do I need to be worried?" she asked. Bellamy's instinctive response was, yes. Everyone should be worried.

But if he said that, Raven would want to help and there was nothing she could do. If she tried, she'd just be putting herself in danger. So, he just said, "I got her." From the look on Raven's face, she could tell he was avoiding the real answer. She looked angry, but in a resigned way. Still, Bellamy grabbed her wrist as she tried to brush past him. "Hey. I'm not going to let anything happen to her. I promise."

For a moment, Raven seemed to be wondering whether or not to believe him. Turns out that wasn't what she was wondering. She was wondering something else. "You and Clarke…"

Bellamy rolled his eyes, trying to seem nonchalant. "She's my client."

"You know, you should stop lying to me. You're shitty at it." Then, she breezed straight past him, and Bellamy knew it was going to be a long night.

By the time he got back to the bar, Clarke was tossing back the drink Murphy gave her. "I thought I told you to take it easy."

She glared at him and Bellamy was trying to understand where this sudden hostility was coming from. Murphy answered for her. "Actually, that's her third."

"What?"

"You told her not to. I'm sorry, how long have you known Clarke?"

Bellamy sighed. He had thought she was handling her incident from earlier remarkably well, but it seemed she had her own surprising way of letting off steam. So Bellamy was going to do what she wanted him to. He was going to let her drink herself stupid and then he was going to take her home.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke could definitely hold her liquor, but after an hour, Bellamy could tell it was time to cut her off. She didn't glare at him when he halted her drink order this time. In fact, she'd gotten kinda giggly and touchy and Bellamy tried to pretend he wasn't enjoying it. Raven kept sending him a knowing glance, and in truth, he started to get ahead of himself, fantasizing about what it would be like after the case, when he and Clarke could see each other just because they wanted to. He even wondered if maybe she wanted to be more than what they were now too.

And when your friends shot you a knowing glance and they were right, it was easy to enjoy all the implications of that look. Especially when Clarke was wrapping her arms around his middle and leaning her cheek against his shoulder.

All in all, though it was still a tense night, and though he was still on the lookout for trouble the whole evening, he'd had a good time. Still, in the car ride home, after Raven had whispered a scary threat in his ear explaining just what she'd do to him if he hurt her, Clarke had gone uncharacteristically quiet. She'd only asked him, concernedly, "Wait, where's Octavia tonight?" That softened Bellamy's heart towards her further.

"She's fine. She's staying with Niylah."

"Who's that?"

"A friend."

Then, she went quiet and Bellamy's attempts to coax her into conversation were futile. He figured that the events of the day were finally fully catching up with her. He wished more than anything this could have just been a normal night out with friends.

All he could content himself with was the feeling that, one way or another, this would all be over soon.

He got her into her apartment with little fuss, but she was definitely way drunker than she wanted to be. "If you put one foot on the ground, you won't get the spins as bad," he said softly, but Clarke didn't seem to listen as she slid into bed. He was about to leave the room, planning on taking the couch, but when he looked back at Clarke one more time, he could tell she was crying.

In the dark room, it was as if their roles as client and detective faded away. He went to her, not as her employee, not as Madi's protector, but as her friend. He knelt by her side, taking her hand in his. "It's gonna be okay, Clarke." A tear rolled off the bridge of her nose and splashed on his hand.

"You should stay away from me," she whispered.

"That'll happen," he said, hoping she'd realize how ridiculous she sounded, but she seemed desperately earnest.

"I'm dangerous."

"That's why you hired me, remember?"

Instead of smoothing out, her face was pinched and anguished. She tried to roll away, but their intertwined fingers stopped her. "You don't understand."

No, Bellamy thought, he didn't understand. But she was drunk and scared and when the morning rolled around, if she even remembered this conversation, she'd be sober enough to remember that he knew exactly what dangers he was getting himself into.

(He didn't. And he would remember this conversation later. And then, he would wonder if maybe he should have listened to her when she told him to run. As the bullet keeps flying, it's her voice in his head whispering "I'm dangerous" that he remembers most of all.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy had to bide his time until Friday, when Mount Weather opened and he could stir up some trouble, but between Tuesday night and Friday night, he had no reason to keep going over to Clarke's and they both knew it. She didn't mention her whispered words Wednesday morning, and if she remembered them, she never said anything to Bellamy.

They watched movies, spent some time with Madi, ordered takeout. Bellamy was always on the lookout for trouble, but it seemed the warning had afforded them a few days of reprieve. Even though he could have taken a few days off from his job, he went over to Clarke's every night. He did that for a few reasons, but one big one above all. Bellamy had started to hope for the future. He had started to imagine life after the case was over, when everyone was safe and Clarke was no longer his client. When they could be together, no strings attached.

And without realizing it, he had started to prepare for that life. But you would think, after everything he had been through, that Bellamy would have known not to nurture any hopes for the future. You would think he would understand how unforgiving the world could be.

When Friday rolled around, he didn't know it yet - in truth, he didn't know a lot of things, but that was about to change - but this was the beginning of the end.

(There goes the bullet. He sees it now. He knows that it's too late.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin! also, this really is the beginning of the end. and yet there are like seven more chapters (though i might shorten it to six). do with that information what you will ;)


	6. I'd Lose My License For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's visit to Mount Weather is fruitful... among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a pretty vague summary i know. i also know that i said i'd post yesterday and i Did Not, but since i have about a grand total of four (4) readers i figured you guys could forgive me on this one <3\. instead of posting i watched a movie called all that jazz which ROCKED my shit, so if anyone needs a good movie rec....
> 
> anyways, i've been meaning to say for chapters now, i know octavia is a huge part of bellamy's motivation in this fic. i also know that we have not seen her yet. you will see her in this fic and it will be at a very Big Moment, so i'm saving it for then, so now you have something to look forward to. shit's about to hit the fan y'all, i hope you're ready!

Mount Weather was certainly in a dodgy part of Arkadia, but it was different from Azgeda. It was a richer part of town, but Bellamy knew that if you crossed the wrong person, it wasn't that strange to wind up dead. If you didn't know what he knew, you'd think it was a safe place to raise your children. And Mount Weather was certainly reflective of that reality. He pushed open the door of the bar and it looked deceptively nice.

The bar was long with shelves of expensive bottles of wine as far as the eye could see. The lighting was dim, with chandeliers that were more fancy than functional draped over a few tables. It certainly wasn't the kind of place that you went to dance. There was some jazz song that Bellamy vaguely recognized playing softly over the speakers. It was a shame he was here on such sordid business. He showed up right at seven-thirty, when the bar opened. He didn't want to risk missing any potential leads and he was prepared to stay all night. But there were only a handful of people scattered around the room.

Still, as he took in all this information, trying to make as many initial judgments and guesses as he could, the first thing he noticed when he walked through the door was a strange odor hidden underneath the strong smell of smoke and wine. The odor would have had to be a strong one to battle with the other aromas that were definitely dominant, but Bellamy couldn't quite make out what it was, only that it was out of place.

He didn't want to linger in the doorway for too long, but he didn't go straight to the bar either. He picked a face out of the room, working purely on instinct. It was the friendliest face, maybe, but the guy definitely didn't look like a straight-lacer either. Bellamy decided to start there.

He made his way to the back wall, next to this man who looked over at him, smiling a bit like he wanted to make conversation. Some men liked to talk. For Bellamy's sake, he hoped this guy was one of them. And sure enough, he didn't have to start the conversation himself. "Don't think I've seen you around here before," the guy said, but not in a suspicious way.

Bellamy shrugged. "Well, between you and me…" It was time to test his story out. There were a lot of ways for this to go south. "I don't know if you know Lovejoy, but I owe him some money. Heard he hangs around here."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Well, you're not gonna be seeing him walk through the door any time soon, that's for sure," and then he laughed loudly enough that Bellamy could tell he had already had a few drinks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some heads turn their way. But for now, he ignored it. And he didn't laugh along either, so when the guy noticed that, he sighed and said, "You'll have to pass it along to Emerson or his boss. Lovejoy was basically their lackey," and then he chuckled again.

Bellamy took great care to make his face remain impassive, but this lead had already given him far more information than he'd imagined. Not only was Lovejoy working with a man named Emerson - a name that they had and could use - but he wasn't just working with Emerson. There was someone else, a third person. Only two people had confronted Madi, but now Bellamy knew there was a ringleader. Someone pulling the strings. These were important revelations, and he was eager to get back to tell Clarke. But not yet.

"Know where I can find them?"

The man shrugged, teetering a bit on his feet. He was drunker than Bellamy had realized and that could probably account for his loose lips. "They don't get here until around ten or eleven. Probably just finishing up at the warehouse, you know…" The man suddenly trailed off, turning a bit green, eyes wide and nervous.

Bellamy followed his gaze to see someone sitting about ten feet away, giving him and Bellamy a look that could curdle milk. Maybe Bellamy was talking softly, but the drunk guy definitely wasn't. And it seemed that now he knew he had said too much. "Thanks for the help," Bellamy whispered, but the guy didn't respond.

The glaring man's eyes followed Bellamy on his walk to the bar. He clearly wanted him to know that he was being watched. His gaze was steady as Bellamy ordered a shot of whiskey. He waited as the bartender prepared it. That smell was stronger here, and as the bartender slid Bellamy's drink toward him, he leaned forward and asked, "Does something smell fishy to you?" The bartender looked at him darkly, saying nothing and retreating back into the shadows to polish some wine glasses.

For such a nice joint, the atmosphere was hostile and Bellamy didn't know if it was just him or if it was always like this. But by fishy, he didn't mean suspicious. He could smell something that was almost like tuna or sardines. And he knew why the smell was so strong, because if it really was fish oil, then that kind of stink lasted. It was puzzling though, because Mount Weather didn't serve any food. Maybe it was for some fancy new cocktail Bellamy had never heard about.

He'd been planning on waiting for Emerson and the other anonymous figure to show, but that man was still shooting daggers Bellamy's way and with his eyes still lingering on Bellamy's back, he started to head for the door. Bellamy had been a private detective for years now. And he knew that you didn't stick to the plan if there was a lead looking you straight in the face. So he quickly downed his whiskey, threw a ten dollar bill the bartender's way and headed for the door as it was swinging behind that mystery man.

Perhaps he should have been prepared for what was waiting for him, but he was used to working cases about affairs, about embezzlement, about daughters who ran off with their boyfriends and sons who were dropping their parents' calls. This case was serious. He'd known that from the beginning, but it sunk in when he'd found Clarke on the kitchen floor. Now, he was about to come face to face with it.

The moment the door was shut safely behind him a fist slammed into the side of his head, sending Bellamy staggering back, a rainbow of spots dancing in his vision. He was a good fighter, and he usually could give as good as he got, but he was taken off guard and already down for the count, so by the time his vision returned to him, he received another blow straight to the nose and then another to his left eye.

That sent him to the ground, and now there were no colors, only blackness edging in, but Bellamy fought it off and got to his feet, fists at the ready, but the man with the evil gaze was prepared for him, and it wasn't a fist that Bellamy felt but a switchblade sticking into his lower chest at lightning speed and pulling out just as quickly. Bellamy pressed a hand to the already bleeding wound and let himself fall back to the hard pavement. So much for Mount Weather's classy atmosphere, he thought. Bloodstains tended to ruin that.

It was a sorry excuse for a fight. It wasn't really a fight at all. He got jumped, that was all he could say. But it took him a moment to assess the damage, and he was sure he had a concussion. His ears were muffled and he had to concentrate to make out any noise, but as clarity returned to his world the man stood over him. He spit on Bellamy's face and it took all of Bellamy's strength to wipe it off.

"If you're gonna come around asking so many questions, you should be more careful not to be seen walking into Azgeda three days earlier, Detective." He spat the last word out like it was a swear, and then he disappeared into the shadows.

Bellamy groaned, pulling himself in the opposite direction, sitting his back against the wall. His head was pounding and there was blood all over his hands. But he was pretty sure the knife hadn't pierced any organs. A flesh wound. A fucking painful flesh wound, but a flesh wound all the same.

Clarke had told him that if his life were ever in danger, he didn't have to hesitate before calling the police. Which meant he had two options: he could call an ambulance and be sure to survive, even though it would rack up a pretty bill. Or he could call Clarke and cross his fingers that her medical training was as extensive as she'd promised.

In the end, it wasn't really a decision at all. In fact, his bloody fingers were already dialing her number.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He didn't know how long it was between his call to Clarke and her arrival, only that he was conscious for every painful moment. Her voice had been steady on the phone, but he could hear an undercurrent of panic. She was suppressing it for his sake, and he was thankful for that. He was feeling pretty panicked himself. When she emerged into the lamplight outside of Mount Weather, she looked heaven sent. Bellamy supposed she was because if it weren't for her, he'd be dead meat pretty soon.

Her face was firm and brave but her eyebrows were pinched together in a way that betrayed how worried he knew she was. He grinned at her through bloody lips as she approached. "Hey, princess."

She didn't ask if he was okay. They both knew the answer to that question. "Can you walk?"

"Yes," Bellamy said, unsure if that was a lie or not.

"Get in the car, we have to get you away from here." She helped him to his feet and though her voice was tight and nervous, her movements were steady and gentle. "Keep pressure on that."

Bellamy nodded, but that was about all he could do. He collapsed heavily into the passenger seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. Clarke was already climbing in on the driver's side and taking off. He couldn't lie. He was glad to see that bar recede in the window behind him. They drove in silence for what might have been thirty seconds as Bellamy caught his breath. Then he said, "I found some useful information."

Clarke shot him a grateful look, but then she said, "It can wait."

"Maybe I should tell you before I bleed out and it dies with me," he joked. But Clarke didn't seem to find it funny.

"If you were going to bleed out, you would have already."

"You sure about that?"

"No," she said, pulling over. They were at some park a couple blocks away. It was only nine o'clock now, but it was still pretty empty. Clarke hopped out of the car, opening the backseat before she opened Bellamy's door, grabbing something, but he was too tired to take much notice. He wearily obeyed as she pulled him out of the car, half staggering and into the shadows, behind some trees. His knees gave way underneath him, but Clarke had been ready for that, and before he knew it, his back was leaning against a sturdy tree trunk and she had a med kit laid out in front of her.

Her eyes were focused and she seemed almost distant as she cleaned his wounds. Bellamy was fighting back groans of pain, and while he didn't want to distract her, he felt the need to remind her who she was working on. "How's it looking?"

"You're gonna be fine. Flesh wound, like you said on the phone." She was quiet, pulling out a needle and thread. He figured he'd need stitches, but shit, this was gonna hurt. Whatever cream she'd put on it though was doing a good job at numbing the area. He was starting to feel much better. "Think you can talk?" she said.

Time to tell her what he knew. So as she stitched him up, he distracted himself by going over everything he'd found out. He circled around the main two revelations. "Lovejoy's colleague has a name now," he said, after telling her how he got stabbed. "Emerson." Clarke's eyes were intense, holding his gaze.

"Emerson… he didn't give you any more information than that?"

"Just one thing. You said two guys confronted Madi about the drugs?"

Clarke nodded, looking back down at his wound.

"Well, there are three. Lovejoy and Emerson are working for someone else."

Clarke pursed her lips, eyebrows raised in surprise. But other than that, her reaction was somewhat muted. "Your stitches are done," was all she said in response. "But your face." Her fingers brushed his bruised eye trailing all the way down his jawline to his bloody lip. "No stitches needed. You'll bruise, but you'll be fine. You might have a concussion."

Bellamy was pretty sure the concussion was guaranteed but he said nothing. He liked the feel of her hand on his skin.

"Is Octavia taken care of tonight?"

He'd planned on being at that bar until he'd gotten his answers, so he'd stuck his sister with Niylah again. "Yeah. Madi?"

"With Gaia," Clarke said, and Bellamy raised an eyebrow in question. "Indra's daughter," she clarified. "They're good. They look out for her, no questions asked." She finally dropped her hand from his face and Bellamy immediately missed her touch. But her fingers locked with his before he had time to complain. "Let me take you to my place and get you cleaned up." She looked down, shyly. "And if you want, you can stay the night."

He nodded, getting to his feet, feeling pain in every inch of his body. But as soon as he was standing, Clarke was carefully wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his sweater. It hurt to hold her, but he was glad to do it all the same. "I'm okay," he said. "Really, Clarke. I'm fine. Thanks to you."

"Don't scare me like that again," she whispered, her face crumpling, tears welling up in her eyes. She was good at that - compartmentalizing her feelings so she could get the job done. Because it was only after she'd tended to all of Bellamy's wounds that she let herself break down a little.

"I'll try my best," he said, but he had a feeling that there would be more nights like this before the case was through.

(He was wrong. It would be over sooner than he thought. And not just the case - everything.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The ride to Clarke's apartment was mostly silent except for her periodic reminders that he shouldn't fall asleep. His head was pounding, but he didn't feel tired. At least, not anymore. Truthfully, he felt like he could use a drink, but when he said that, she shot him a glare so sharp he shut right up. All in all, Bellamy felt like shit, but he could walk up the stairs to her place without assistance, so he was considering the night an overall success.

After all, he'd gotten two leads out of it. That wasn't anything to turn his nose up at. He was almost feeling pleased, but Clarke's mood was reining him back in. It seemed like the night had rattled her more than him which he figured made sense. She led him to the couch, making sure he was comfortable and settled then sat down next to him. He revelled in the closeness of her.

She sighed, resting her head in her hands. "I should have gone with you tonight."

Bellamy shook his head. "That would have been too suspicious. Besides, they probably know who you are there."

"Still," Clarke said stubbornly, "maybe I could have done something. Now they know who you are. Now you're in danger."

Bellamy chuckled a little, finding her concern endearing. "It's an occupational hazard. I knew what I was getting myself into."

"You shouldn't have put yourself in that much danger." She wouldn't even look at him.

"Clarke, are you forgetting that's why you hired me?"

She blinked, as if surprised, then her eyes found his and he found understanding there. "I do forget that sometimes." He felt her pinky brush up against his and knew that she was asking a question with her touch. "Sometimes I forget that you're paid to risk your life for me and… and you're just another person I want to protect from this whole mess."

Bellamy's voice was soft. "It's my job to protect you."

"You're pretty good at it." He looked at her, and he saw that image of her on the kitchen floor and found it hard to believe. She must have known what he was thinking because she suddenly stopped her shy grazing and grasped his hand firmly. "I always feel safe when I'm with you."

"We're gonna make it out of this, Clarke. It'll be over and then…" He trailed off.

But she knew what he was going to say. "I wasn't prepared for you," she whispered. "I never saw you coming at all."

Her face was so close to his and her eyes were closing and she looked so fucking beautiful and he'd almost died tonight so he really, really wanted to say screw it and have this. And be with her. But he was the one to pull back. "I can't," he said, his voice coming out strained.

"Oh," Clarke said, cheeks turning pink.

"It's not like - I could lose my license," he clarified, and she seemed a bit relieved that she hadn't read things wrong. Bellamy thought she couldn't have been less right. "If I'm not licensed, half the things I do as a PI would be illegal. And it's the only thing I'm good at, and without it, Octavia… But I meant what I said. When this is all over, then we can."

Clarke looked sad for a moment, sadder than Bellamy thought she would be and he briefly wondered if there was something he didn't know. But she smiled her sad little smile at him, pulling away a little. "Okay."

The moment was dissipating, and Bellamy wanted desperately to hang onto it. He wanted to solve this fucking case and he wanted to have that happiness he thought might always be denied to him. But right now, more than anything, he wanted to sleep. Clarke checked him for a concussion and said that if he had one, it was mild, and he'd be able to get some rest tonight.

He was starting to stretch out on the couch when Clarke stood over him, hands on her hips, "No way."

"What?"

"You just got stabbed. You're taking the bed."

Bellamy breathed out a laugh. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't. And it's big enough for both of us," she said in a rush, "so please just don't argue with me."

He sighed, trying his best to seem firm, to seem like he wasn't going to give in, but there were no rules about sleeping next to a client and he had a nice thought about waking up with her scent on his clothes. So he said yes. It was worth it just to see her smile.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(Later, this memory would come to him, but he wouldn't know if it was a memory or a dream. In the moment between waking and slumber, her voice would sound in his ear. "Don't fall asleep," she'd say softly, her fingers stroking his hair.

"Why?" he'd remember asking.

"Because. Things won't be like this in the morning," and he wanted to ask her what she could possibly mean by that, but there was no memory left.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When he woke up the next morning, his phone was ringing. And she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhh the next two chapters are INTENSE. many clues in this one, and in case you forgot, i go over all the clues at some point in the next chapter. okay, find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin, comments make my entire week should you feel so inclined to leave one and i'll see you on the other side


	7. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy solves the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two orders of business and i'll start with the bad: we do not have to talk about that TRAVESTY of an episode last night. (unless u want to in which case my comments/tumblr inbox are always open). i really wish that i had some amazing fluff to provide right now, but the next few chapters are probably the angstiest in the whole fic. still, let me clarify that it is angst with a happy ending, and no matter what happens, i'm not gonna surprise you. 
> 
> second thing: this fic has officially been nominated for two bellarke fic awards and i am SO emotional :') it's nominated for best au WIP and best angst WIP and i am eternally grateful to everyone who has ever thought of me, i'm floored. 
> 
> finally, don't read the notes at the end until you've read the chapter bc there will be some spoilers! okay, enjoy!!! *lizzo voice* i've been WAITING for this one.

Bellamy's head was pounding and his face felt tender and sore. He figured his bruises had probably settled into a scarier shape overnight. But his first concern was where Clarke could be, and he was fighting the instinct to let his mind wander where it should not go. First things first. He had to pick up the phone.

He must have caught it right around the last ring, but the name on his Caller ID was a familiar one. "Miller? What time is it?"

"Nine. Were you still asleep?"

Bellamy rubbed his bleary eyes. "Yeah. Long night. What's with the call?"

"We've been friends for a long time." Miller's voice was firm. Almost cold.

"Yeah…" Bellamy said, unsure of where this was headed.

"So I know when you're lying to me, man."

"Mind telling me what this is about?"

"If you know anything about Lovejoy, now would be the time to come forward."

Bellamy shook his head, still confused, but with the faint traces of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I told you, I -"

"Yeah, I know what you told me."

"What do you want me to say, Miller?"

"The truth would be nice."

Bellamy got up, pacing the room. "I don't know anything. I told you, that wasn't the car I was looking for."

"I better not find out you're lying, because Lovejoy's partner was just found. Shot in the back of the head, same gun too."

Bellamy's blood ran cold, but he kept his voice even and calm. "What's his name? Maybe I know something."

"Carl Emerson. Ring any bells?"

"No, sorry." Suddenly, Bellamy froze in his footsteps. Sitting on Clarke's nightstand was her phone. Where could she be without her phone? "I gotta go," he said, hanging up without waiting for a response. When it was just Lovejoy killed, Bellamy figured that it was a dispute between him and the other guys harassing Madi. But if Emerson was killed too, all while Bellamy was sleeping… It wasn't Roan. And it wasn't Lovejoy's boss, whoever that was. So the question of who was murdering these guys had acquired a new level of urgency.

It still took a backburner to the question of where Clarke was, though. He raced through the apartment, past the kitchen and into the living room. The bathroom door was open, the kitchen was empty and there was no one on her couch. He was prepared to switch into panic mode when he heard a key turn in the lock and he stood, holding his breath, waiting for whoever walked in and praying that it was who he hoped it was.

The door swung open. Clarke stood in the middle of it with a bag in her hand and an expression shifting from contentment to puzzlement at the look on Bellamy's face. "Where were you?" he said.

"I didn't want to wake you. I bought bagels."

He wanted to laugh. Every horrible thought he'd been entertaining seemed ridiculous and childish. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't. Because he knew that it wasn't ridiculous. Not at all. And Clarke could read it on his face. "What is it?" she said. "What's happened?"

"Emerson's dead."

She dropped the bagel bag. "You're bleeding."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Without another word to Bellamy, Clarke had gone straight into her room, presumably to get the med kit. There was a familiar look in her eyes that made it clear to Bellamy he was meant to stay put. He hadn't even felt his stitches tear, but running through the house looking for her was apparently enough to do that. He was pretty sure he wasn't liking this whole being injured thing, mostly because it made him wonder whether it would hinder him when he needed his strength most. But his mind was still circling around the revelation of Emerson's death and what that could mean for this case.

Clarke came back quickly, her face impassive. She let Bellamy stay standing, but she bent down to start working on his wound. "This could be big, Clarke. This could be the breakthrough we've been looking for. If I can just find out who killed Emerson, then -"

"You're fired," Clarke said quietly without looking up, and it took Bellamy a minute for that to sink in.

"What?" he croaked, but Clarke said nothing. "What do you mean 'I'm fired?'"

"I don't need your help anymore." He felt her fingers brushing against his stab wound and for the first time since waking up, the pain returned.

"Why are you doing this?" he said, and he knew his voice sounded as blindsided as he felt.

"I'm your client, Bellamy. I don't have to give you a reason." Her voice was cold, almost clinical, but she was biting her lip. And with a sinking stomach, Bellamy realized that the blood seeping through his shirt had been enough to turn her head. Clarke would do anything to protect the ones she loved. And if Bellamy was part of that group now, then…

"Look, if you think firing me from this case is gonna stop me from protecting you and Madi, then you clearly don't know me at all."

"No, I think it will," she said, meeting his eyes for the first time. "if you care about Octavia."

Bellamy flinched, thrown by his sister's name coming into the equation, feeling a new wave of panic wash over him. "What does my sister have to do with this?"

"If you keep working on a case that you were fired from, you'll lose your license," she said, avoiding his gaze again. Bellamy squeezed his eyes, regretting ever bringing that up to her. Clarke was too smart for her own damn good.

"Clarke, please don't do this. It's not safe. Another man is dead! Do you understand that?"

She gently pulled his shirt over his adjusted stitches. "You'll need to keep that dry and wash it twice a day to avoid infection."

Bellamy took a deep breath as Clarke stepped back. He was trying to reason with her, but rationality seemed to have left him and he was speaking entirely from the heart now. "I don't care about getting hurt. Not if it means keeping you safe."

She looked at him again and her expression was hurting him more than any bruise on his body. "Look in the mirror," she said, brushing his bruised eye with her hand. He tried not to wince at that sharp pain, but he couldn't help it. "Don't you think I know that?"

"This is a mistake, Clarke."

She'd been trying to lead him to the door. She'd already gotten his stuff out of her room when she went back for the medkit. But she stopped when he said that. She turned to him, and maybe her smile was meant to be reassuring, but good god, it sent Bellamy's stomach to the fucking floor. "It'll all be over soon." She opened the door.

Bellamy was trying to think of any reason not to walk out of it. He came up empty. "When will I see you again?"

The smile faded as if it had never been there to begin with. She looked away again but he could tell her eyes were brimming with tears. "When it's over."

"And you're sure you're not my client anymore?"

"Yes. I'm sure," she said, voice firm.

That was all he needed to hear. He cupped her cheek with his hand and pulled her towards him, kissing her desperately and painfully. The bruise on his lip ached, but he never wanted it to stop throbbing, not if it meant he could live here in this moment forever, where he was still in her life and she was kissing him back and there were no guns pointed to their heads. When he had her, when he could know her. When she was safe and in his arms.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked so goddamned pretty  
it broke his heart. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that. At least once, I had to do that."

Then he turned and walked out the door, not looking back at all, not even when he heard it click shut and knew she was gone.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy's mind was curiously blank as he took the train home. After everything that had happened in the past fifteen hours, he felt numb. He didn't look at the other people around him though he felt their eyes on his bruised and bloodied face. It was only a twenty minute ride to his place, but it felt like much longer than that.

As soon as his hands were brushing his door knob, though, he froze, every suppressed thought rushing into him at once. Clarke had used a good threat. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his sister. But she was forgetting one very valuable thing: Bellamy was pretty fucking good at his job. He wasn't done with this case. And he wasn't going to get caught working on it either. So he started by picking up his phone and calling Niylah's family, asking if Octavia could stay another night. They were good people and they loved his sister, and they were used to this, especially when Bellamy was close to the end of a case.

He slipped into his apartment only to grab a journal and a pencil before heading outside again. It had been a long time since he had to do this, but the only way to figure out where to go next, was to write everything down. Usually, once Bellamy had reached this point where he had to lay everything out again, he was feeling hopeless, but right now, there was fire in his blood.

His scrawl was messy, but legible enough for him to understand it. And he started with the first thing he knew:

Madi had a boyfriend named Grey. He stole drugs from Emerson and Lovejoy's boss, got rid of them and OD'd.

Lovejoy was shot dead in his car but only after confronting Madi with another man, presumably Emerson. Still no leads on who killed Lovejoy.

Roan is not involved.

Their headquarters are at Mount Weather.

There is a warehouse that Emerson and his boss spend time at. Unknown whether or not this is relevant.

Emerson is dead. Killed in the same way as Lovejoy, presumably by the same person. People?

They are willing to go to extreme lengths to get their stash back. No leads on where to find that stash.

Bellamy paused. He was pretty sure that was everything important. But something felt wrong. He was missing something, and he was pretty sure that whatever it was he was missing was staring him right in the face. Clarke had fired him a mere couple hours ago, and he'd been so sure that it was because he'd almost been killed. But that didn't track. He knew she cared about him, that she would protect him, but if he would do anything to protect Octavia, she felt the exact same way about Madi. So why would Clarke fire him when he was her best shot at saving the person she cared about most?

That wasn't like her. He went over the list again. A third time. But on his fourth time over, he paused at the second line. Lovejoy was shot dead in his car but… only after confronting Madi with another man. He'd been convinced of a breakthrough when he found out there were three guys instead of just two. But who was it who had told him there were two in the first place?

Madi.

No, not Madi. Clarke.

What if there had been three guys all along? And as many of his breakthroughs came, Bellamy felt struck with a theory that felt indisputable and certain. From the beginning, Clarke had been trying to protect Madi. And she still was. That was why she had hired him, and it was why she had pushed him away. Bellamy finally knew who had been killing those guys.

It was Madi.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It all made sense now. Why Clarke wouldn't let him go to the cops, why he had barely seen Madi since the night they met, the meaningful look between the two girls when Clarke said there were only two guys before Madi could say anything to the contrary. Because Lovejoy was already dead. Madi had killed him and gone to Clarke for help. And Clarke had hired him to try and stop it from happening again. But by the time he'd passed out last night, and he would have gone down heavy, she called Madi, told her who to watch out for, who to stay safe from.

And Madi had found him and killed him. Once Clarke learned that, she knew it was too late. So she fired Bellamy before he could figure out that it was Madi and turn her in. The theory made sense - a lot of sense. But what Bellamy didn't know was what to do now.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Didn't take too long to figure it out. Like he said, he was damn good at his job. Which meant he knew how to pick a lock. It had been almost a month since Lovejoy died, but he knew that they'd keep his apartment intact for a little while longer, until they declared the case cold and moved on. That meant it was probably being monitored, but it was a risk he'd have to take.

With a shudder, he realized that if he got caught, not only would he be losing his license, but he'd also be facing jail time. Still, it had taken him an hour or two to track down the apartment and to change his clothes. He'd gone back inside his apartment to change, but somehow, he ended up crashing for a couple hours, which meant he'd lost some time. The concussion had really taken it out of him.

So it was four by the time he'd picked up his car outside of Mount Weather and four-thirty by the time he made it to Lovejoy's place, and nearly five by the time he'd picked the lock and gotten through the front door. He could tell immediately that no one had been here in a long time. It wasn't particularly dusty, and it wasn't unkempt, but it felt like the kind of place no one had been to in a long time. And there was that smell again. It was still faint, and if it hadn't been one he'd noticed before, he probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. But he remembered the smell from the bar. The fishy smell.

Now that was strange. The apartment was small, but nice. Bellamy wandered around, going from counter to counter. He was looking for the name of the last guy. Once he had it, then he'd decide what to do. He could tell Clarke that he knew about Madi, that he wouldn't sell her out, and then persuade her to take the info to the cops. Or he could track this guy down himself and…. and what? Bellamy sighed. He really hadn't thought this through.

A search through Lovejoy's mail proved futile, which Bellamy had figured considering the cops would have taken anything important already. He checked pill bottles in the bathroom, in case this guy was using from his boss's stash. He even went through the fridge. He'd done all of this first because he knew that if he didn't find anything in the bedroom, he was doomed. And he was hoping to be able to save the best for last.

But as he set foot in the room, the fishy smell ever-so-slightly stronger, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was expecting a call from Octavia, maybe Miller again, maybe even Clarke. Anyone but the name on his caller ID: Madi.

Dread pooled in his stomach. This wasn't just a nineteen-year-old kid he was talking to anymore. This was a killer. He raised the phone to his ear and pressed answer. "Madi," he said in a low voice.

But her voice was so frightened that for a moment his unshakeable theory seemed in danger. "Bellamy?"

"Where are you?" First things first, he had to stop whatever bad thing was about to go down.

"I'm at Clarke's."

That sent a fresh wave of panic through him. Why would she be calling from Clarke's? "Can you put her on?"

"That's why I'm calling, actually," Madi said, her voice shaking. "She - she called me and told me to come to her apartment and lock the door and wait for her. But she never showed up." There was a breathy pause and Bellamy could tell she was crying. "That was eight hours ago."

Nine-thirty. Right after he'd left. Suddenly, Bellamy had the horrible feeling that he had been wrong. About so many things.

"I'm scared something bad is happening. Can you - can you find her?"

Bellamy nodded numbly before realizing she couldn't hear that through the phone. "Yes. I promise. Madi, I have to go." He hung up.

He had the overwhelming and immediate desire to punch something, break something, scream, lash out. But he was all alone in a dead man's apartment and he still had a job to do. He had been wrong, even though he'd been so certain that he was right. Perhaps a better detective would have realized it sooner. Or maybe a detective without complicated attachments to his client could have done a better job.

Madi hadn't killed Lovejoy and Emerson. Clarke did. She'd slipped out after Bellamy was asleep and killed Emerson. She had killed Lovejoy before Bellamy had ever laid eyes on her. She didn't hire him to find the guys and turn them into the police. She hired him so he could help lure her to the men threatening Madi. So she could kill them. She had planned it from the beginning.

He was just a piece of that plan. As they watched movies together, as he'd eaten her lasagna and taken her out for drinks, she was hiding her blood-stained hands. He'd never known her at all. Clarke said when she fired him that she didn't need his help anymore.

That was true. She killed Emerson. But she must have gotten a name out of him first. And now she was going to kill the last member of Madi's tormentors. He had to find her before then. He had to try and stop her, or he had to try and save her because… maybe she was in danger. And it didn't matter that she'd betrayed him, and it didn't matter that every feeling she pretended to have for him was a lie. He still loved her.

Maybe at another time, he would have been able to walk away. But first he'd save her from herself. And then he'd let her go.

Frantically, Bellamy searched the room, but the chances weren't looking good. He was going to tear through the pockets of Lovejoy's dirty laundry, but he saw the crate it was in. Well. That must be where the fishy smell was coming from. It had a vaguely familiar brand name on it, this brand that sold jarred fish pretty cheaply at a couple supermarkets across town. Tuna, sardines, whatever. The thing was, that was a damn weird thing to keep laundry in. And there was no reason for Lovejoy to have it.

But most compelling was that there was an address on it. An address that, when punched into Bellamy's phone, led to a warehouse. It was a shitty lead. The shittiest he'd gotten so far, but it was all he had. He had to pray that it would lead him to Clarke, because if it didn't… it might be too late. Hell, it might already be too late.

Which meant Bellamy didn't have any time to waste.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The feeling of anger and betrayal gnawed at him the whole drive over, but he pushed it down. The hurt could wait until she was safe and in front of him. He didn't know what would happen then, but he wanted it to happen. Though, truthfully, he wanted another revelation to emerge, to tell him that he was wrong. That it hadn't been Clarke. But he knew when a mystery was solved. He just didn't like the fucking solution.

It was almost an hour drive to the warehouse. It was on the outskirts of greater Arkadia, somewhere he never would have heard about. It looked empty, one of those old wooden buildings that high school students would probably hold a party in. There were no cars parked outside.

It was another dead end. He wouldn't get to her in time.

"Snap out of it, Bellamy," he murmured to himself. He had to at least check it out. He had to try. He kicked in the door and it gave almost immediately. Old wood tended to do that. He slipped inside where the fish oil smell was overwhelming. But based on the shelves upon shelves of jarred fish, he wondered if maybe it really was just a jarred fish warehouse and nothing more.

He stayed by the walls, figuring he could at least circle the room. Bellamy had made it to the third wall when he found the breakthrough he was looking for. He was so scared and relieved and worried and grateful that he felt like crying on the spot, but he didn't.

There was an open door leading to a dark stairwell. That never meant anything good. But in Bellamy's case, it could be exactly what he was looking for. He reached for the gun he'd put in his pocket. He didn't like carrying one around. But this case wasn't like other cases and there was a chance - a damn good one - that he was going to need it.

He got to the end of the staircase and there was a door - not a wooden one. This one looked tough. Still, he was pretty sure he could kick it down. He was amped up now, ready for a confrontation, ready for the end of this fucked up story, ready to start his goddamned epilogue. So his first kick shook the door pretty mightily. His foot was throbbing, and he was still not exactly in fighting shape after getting jumped outside Mount Weather last night. But he kicked again.

When he kicked a third time, however, the door swung open before his foot could make contact. Perhaps some part of him knew what he'd find in that room. Perhaps some part of him knew that he was always going to end up here.

"Detective Blake," a tall young man greeted him. "I was wondering if you'd show up."

But Bellamy wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at the other person in the room, a fourth member of the equation that neither him nor Clarke had ever known about. He was looking at the girl he loved tied to a chair in the center of a room, her blonde hair hanging like a curtain over her pretty, bruised face. Not moving.

(The bullet finds its target. He'd had time to go back to the beginning. But now, he has arrived at the end.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew okay. here we go!!!! be honest, did anyone actually think it was madi for even a moment? if these were original characters, maybe ppl would be surprised but it's clarke mf griffin! of course she's the femme fatale. also it's probably not the best time to read about clarke betraying bellamy....... but im better than jroth so it's cool. i love you guys, comments and kudos make my whole entire life, and you can find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin.


	8. Shootout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bullet finds its target. It's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go !!!!! the Big Chapter, albeit a short-ish one. i am hopeful that i can stay on track of posting a chapter every 4 days. i have the next chapter 100% done, and i'm about halfway through the one after, and from there, there are only one or two more. so fingers crossed i can do it! i hope you guys like this angst, writing this has been the perfect escape from the show.
> 
> ALSO!!!! i got nominated for some more awards in the bellarke fic awards and i'm so :') i got nominated for best modern au, most well-written fic, most memorable fic, most original idea, and a fic i could reread 101 times (and still love it!), so a big big thank you to anyone who thought of me, it's made my entire week!

"What the hell did you do to her?" Bellamy asked, still not looking at either of them.

But when a woman's voice answered, he found it within himself to tear his gaze away from Clarke. "Better than she would have done to us." The woman held up a handgun, not pointing it anywhere, but showing it to him. "She was holding this to my colleague's head when I knocked her out." He'd never seen this woman before. He hadn't even thought to factor anyone else into the equation, and she must have known that, because she continued, "You look surprised to see me, Detective. So was Clarke."

The man smiled at Bellamy in a way that made him feel nervous and uneasy. "This is my partner, Dr. Lorelei Tsing. I'm Cage Wallace."

Bellamy shook his head, gripping his gun tighter. "Why are you telling me this?"

Cage looked amused at the question. "Because you're not leaving this room. Gun down, Detective."

Bellamy wanted to stand his ground, but Dr. Tsing pointed her gun at Clarke's head while Cage kept his trained on Bellamy. Reluctantly, he disarmed, placing his gun on the ground, but keeping his hands at his side.

"What do you want?" he asked, defeated. He was looking at Clarke still, but Tsing and Cage were facing him. They didn't see what he saw - or at least what he thought he saw. Because Bellamy was almost convinced that through the hair hanging over her face, Clarke's eyes flashed open, meeting his gaze, before closing again, as if nothing had happened. Bellamy made sure his face didn't change, but his heart started beating faster.

"What do I want?" Cage asked, half-laughing, but his temper was emerging ever-so-slightly. "What do you think I want? I want my fucking drugs!"

Bellamy exploded back, "She doesn't know a damn thing about that! None of us do!"

Cage shook his head. "Do you really expect me to believe that? After she killed two of my men?" It was one thing to suspect something so strongly you felt as if you knew it, and it was another to have it confirmed. Bellamy couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath when he was confronted with the final, unforgiving truth. The unimaginable betrayal. "You didn't know that, did you, Detective?" Bellamy didn't respond. "Now tell me. Why would someone who knows nothing about my drugs do such a thing?"

Bellamy had an answer for this one. "Because you were threatening the person she cared about most. And Clarke would do anything to protect the people she loves."

Cage smiled again. It was as if the eerie expression was glued onto his face. "You know, I came to that same conclusion. Thank you for coming, Detective. Now, we won't have to find Madi except as a last resort."

Bellamy swallowed, but his mouth had gone dry. So he would be tortured in exchange for information that Clarke did not have. This had to be the dumbest way to die.

"When is she supposed to wake up, Dr. Tsing?"

Dr. Tsing shrugged with the same fake nonchalance Cage had been using. "Any second now."

"Well, you already look a little worse for the wear, but I think a little more roughing up might let our friend know that we're not fucking around, what do you think?"

Bellamy didn't respond. He wouldn't like it, but he could take a beating. But of course, Clarke chose that moment to stop pretending to be knocked out and he wanted to scream. She could have bought them more time. But she started groaning, moving her head slowly upright, and when he could see her face, not too banged up, it was like fresh air was breathed into his lungs. Even after everything she'd done to him.

"Clarke," Cage said, turning his attention elsewhere. "How nice of you to finally join us."

Her face was stony and she said nothing. Bellamy couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride.

"You'll see that your detective friend found his way here too."

Clarke's eyes passed over him in a way they never had before. As if he was inconsequential. As if he barely mattered. "He shouldn't have come."

Bellamy bit his lip, battling with the same feelings he'd been fighting with since he realized who she was. Cage raised his gun, pointing it at Bellamy. "No, he shouldn't have."

Clarke's face betrayed no sign of panic or worry. "What do you want?"

"You know, I'm really tired of that question. I think you know what I want."

"And you're going to use him to get it?"

"No. I'm going to use whatever it takes." Including Bellamy. Fucking fantastic.

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, voice icy, "but there's nothing you can do to get your stash back."

Cage tilted his head, menacingly. He lowered his gun to his side, but Bellamy didn't relax. "So you don't care if I kill him?"

Clarke shrugged and it felt like a knife in Bellamy's heart. Like the gun held to his head was finally fired. "I'd rather you didn't."

Cage looked surprised for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

But something else was catching Bellamy's eye. Clarke's hands were tied behind her back, to the chair. But he could still see the edge of her wrist. And he could see fresh blood dripping on the floor. Why was there blood sliding down her wrist? Maybe it was from the ropes, but she hadn't been putting up much of a struggle, at least not yet.

"I mean, I wish you wouldn't," Clarke said, voice breaking just a little, but Bellamy could chalk that up to stress. Right? "Because he's a good guy. And I didn't mean to get him caught up in any of this." Was Bellamy imagining it, or was her voice shaking, just a little? But her tone steadied at the same moment Bellamy realized what the blood meant. "But he isn't going to make me talk."

A week ago, he'd given her a knife. And if Bellamy was right, Clarke always had something up her sleeve, maybe even a switchblade. And this time, it might just save them both. Bellamy Blake wasn't a very spiritual person. He didn't have faith in a lot of things. But he had faith in Clarke Griffin.

Unfortunately for his sake, he'd been too busy thinking about the switchblade he'd given her that he hadn't realized what she'd just done. By saying he didn't matter to her, she was saying that he was useless to Cage. And Cage had figured that out sooner that she did. "In that case," he said, removing the safety from his gun.

It was so little time. Barely any at all. But it was enough. Enough time for Clarke, who had freed herself from her restraints to go charging at Cage, enough time for Cage to switch the bullet's trajectory and fire at the person running towards him instead of the unarmed detective standing beside him.

People are wrong about the speed of a bullet. The time between the sound and the impact. It's not instantaneous. It's an eternity. And it's enough time to take Bellamy back: back to black coffee and lasagna, to movie nights and takeout, to long embraces and words whispered in the dark. Every fucked up moment of their fucked up friendship. He sees it all.

But when the bullet finally finds its target, Clarke doesn't stumble at all. Bellamy is almost convinced that it missed. She barrels into Cage, knocking him and his revolver to the warehouse floor.

But after that, the next bits happened very, very fast. Tsing pointed her gun at him, shooting just as Bellamy dove to the ground to get his own gun, missing very narrowly. And Bellamy didn't hesitate. He just fired, not letting his eyes linger long enough to watch the woman fall. He looked down as Clarke scrambled to her feet to see Cage reaching for his gun.

Bellamy stepped on Cage's hand, hearing several cracks as fingers broke. But another hand reached for the gun. And before Bellamy could do anything at all, Clarke fired, killing Cage instantly. Bellamy felt shaky and horrified. Two dead people in the room, but there only had to be one. "You didn't have to do that." he said, not looking at Clarke. "You didn't have to do that! I had him pinned! What were you -" When he finally swung his gaze towards her, though, he had no thoughts in his head except for one: She doesn't look so good.

Bellamy caught her just as her knees started to buckle. The only thought in his head was the certainty that this wasn't really happening. That the blood spilling out of Clarke's abdomen was nothing more than a flesh wound. That someone would come and save her because, goddammit, he didn't care what had happened, what lies she had told, how much blood was on her hands, it wasn't ending like this. It just wasn't.

He knelt with her on the ground, his arm across her back, holding her up, her legs draped over his knees. His other hand was pressed tightly to the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding, even though he knew it was hurting her. He didn't care if he hurt her so long as he kept her alive. But through her grimace, she laughed, the saddest laugh he'd ever heard. "I guess dying for you is a pretty shitty way to say sorry."

A muscle thrummed along Bellamy's jaw. "Shut up, Clarke. You're not dying."

She looked at him, and already her eyes looked too unfocused, too far away for his liking. "Bellamy," she was whispering, "you should know -"

"Stop it," he snapped. "We're not doing this."

But her eyes were pleading and the next words out of her mouth were somehow almost surprising to him. "I had to come here. I had to - This was the only way it would end for Madi."

Bellamy just shook his head. He couldn't confront that right now, what Clarke had been intending to do all along, what she had done right in front of him, the ramifications of what it all meant. Instead, he gently laid her head down on the ground and reached for his pocket. She weakly lifted her head to look at him, eyes widening. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean what am I doing? I'm calling an ambulance." He pulled out his phone, but her hand found his, wrapping as tightly around his wrist as she was capable of doing.

"No." Her voice was feeble, but firm. "I said no cops."

Bellamy didn't have time for this. The desperation and panic as he watched more of her blood spill from between his fingers was on the verge of overwhelming him. "There were exceptions to that rule!" he all but exploded.

Clarke's eyes found the ceiling, and the expression on her face was almost noble. "Not for me."

"No," Bellamy agreed, "for me and anyone I love and that includes you, so shut up and let me do this, okay?" His eyes were stinging as her grip on his hand fell away.

"Okay," she whispered, and a tear slid from the corner of her eye down the side of her face, disappearing in her hair.

"911, what's your emergency?" A tinny voice sounded in his ear.

"My friend has been shot, I need an ambulance," he said, sounding more panicked than he'd have liked to. He gave the address, but no other details. There would be time later for questioning. But when the woman on the other end asked if there were any other wounded in the room he hesitated before saying, "No. But there are two casualties."

"Help is on the way, sir, can you stay on the line for me?"

"I have to keep her awake, I'm sorry," he said, hanging up.

"Bellamy," Clarke said as he slid his arm under her neck, cradling her head. "I'm cold." She sounded scared. His own heart was thumping in his chest.

"You're gonna be fine." He pressed his hand tighter to her wound, ignoring the hiss of pain it produced.

"Look at me," she said, and she was crying. "You should know -"

"Clarke, please don't."

But she lifted her bloody hand to his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He leaned into the touch. "I love you too."

And then, she was out. Still breathing, but only barely. And all Bellamy could think was that the bullet had been meant for him. He should've taken that bullet. Because anything would be better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bellamysgriffin on tumblr. that last scene was one i had planned out since before i started this fic so it feels AMAZING to finally share it :') let me know what you think in the comments! <3 xx


	9. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy reckons with all that he's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you guys a few chapters back that you would see octavia for the first time in a very important scene. that scene happens in this chapter. i hope you like it. it's pretty angsty, and follows a lot of plot with a lot of.... not plot. but i like a lot of what i wrote. the ending of this one is a bit brutal but just keep in mind -- angst with a happy ending, im not a liar.
> 
> also watching the 100 is a very difficult thing to do these days and i applaud anyone who is still doing it with me. i know it's hard, but writing this fic has been very healing for me and has made my interactions with the show easier to swallow. i hope it is helping you too <3
> 
> as always, i'd love to know what you think, so leave a comment if u liked the chapter!

Bellamy wasn't sure how long he waited for the ambulance to arrive. He spent the minutes or hours or seconds or days counting her breaths, his hand pressed tightly to her still-bleeding wound. When he finally heard the sound of sirens, he remained frozen by her side. There were voices, shouts, officers and medics, he assumed. Bellamy didn't tear his eyes away from Clarke, he simply yelled, "We're down here!"

His eyes were dry and his mouth was set in a firm line, but everything inside of him felt like it was falling apart. It wasn't until a hand fell on his shoulder and his name came out of someone's mouth that he unfroze. "Bellamy," Miller said. And slowly, Bellamy turned towards his friend who was wearing a mixture of surprise, betrayal, and compassion on his face.

Miller should have figured it out by now. That Bellamy lied. It might be all over now. But he couldn't find it within himself to care. The small, dark room was flooded with people. No, not with people. With cops. And for the first time, Bellamy realized he was going to have to get his story straight. Luckily, there were also paramedics and despite his reluctance to leave Clarke's side, he was more than happy for them to take over. If it had been him instead of her, Clarke would have been able to save him. But he knew nothing about medicine. He knew nothing at all.

"That's Cage Wallace," Miller said, eyes flickering towards Bellamy. Bellamy avoided his friend's gaze, watching as paramedics surrounded Clarke, who looked pale and lifeless already. He heard words like "crashing," "pulse," "losing," phrases like, "too much blood," "critical condition." Eventually, they all became white noise in his ears, only communicating one message: that he had failed. He was hired to protect her and Madi. If he could return the money, he would.

But would there be anyone left to return it to?

Miller was speaking in a low voice, but Bellamy couldn't hear it. The paramedics lifted Clarke onto a stretcher and Bellamy followed as they carried her up the stairs, between shelves stacked to the ceiling with jarred fish, and finally out the door into the open air. It was a relief to breathe fresh air, to be away from the overwhelming smell of fish oil, but Bellamy knew the odor would stick to his clothes like a reminder of this horrible night.

Maybe he would burn them. He went to follow her into the ambulance, feeling like he was sleepwalking, but a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him. "I should go with her," he said, not looking at who stopped him.

But Miller waited until he'd caught his friend's eye and said, with blue and red lights circling behind him in the darkness, "No, Bellamy. You have to come with me."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

On the way to the station, Bellamy spent the ride with his head in his hands. His eyes were aching and he longed for sleep, even though it wasn't yet eight o'clock. How was it that only twelve hours ago, he was in Clarke's bed, blissfully unaware of every awful thing he knew now? His clothes had been stained with blood then, true, but only his blood.

Miller was kind enough not to say anything and wordlessly, he led Bellamy to an interrogation room. He knew that Miller knew far too much, that it was probably already pointless now, that there was little he could say to absolve himself of guilt, but the first words out of Miller's mouth were, "So, how did you end up in a cellar with two dead bodies, detective?" Miller almost always used his first name.

"Huh?" Bellamy said, stupidly.

"Start at the beginning. And then you can go home to your sister."

The look in Miller's eyes made it clear that he wasn't happy with the situation, and especially unhappy that Bellamy had lied to him. But it communicated something deeper, something Bellamy couldn't begin to express his gratitude for. Their phone calls would be forgotten. After all, Miller would never have been assigned to interrogate Bellamy if his superiors knew about those calls.

So much for the strictly legal cop-PI relationship. Bellamy told the truth about the case: why he'd been hired, who he needed to protect, every lead he'd picked up on. But then, when he arrived at this morning, he left out the bit where Clarke fired him. And a story started forming without any preparation on Bellamy's part. "I told her to meet me at the warehouse, I'd got a lead in the bar last night. She said she could get there sooner than I could. I didn't think it was a good idea, but she went anyway. When I showed up, they had… they had taken her. They'd been waiting for us or something."

Miller's voice was gentle. "What happened in the warehouse tonight, Bellamy?"

Bellamy went over it, omitting the parts that implicated either him or Clarke. He told Miller how she had used the switchblade he'd given her to cut her ties just as Cage was about to kill him. He told Miller how Cage had shot her instead and then shut his eyes, his face screwed up with the memory of the bullet that was meant for him. But it only took a second to regain his composure and Miller's steady gaze was still looking on Bellamy almost kindly.

"Tsing was aiming for Clarke, so I shot her. I couldn't let her -"

"It's okay, Bellamy. What next?"

Bellamy remembered it vividly. It replayed every time he closed his eyes. Cage on the ground, Bellamy's foot on his hand, Clarke reaching for his gun and firing at a man who was helplessly pinned. But what came out was this: "Cage reached for his gun from the ground. He had it aimed up at me. So I shot him too."

And that was that. Miller didn't seem completely satisfied with the answers, and Bellamy was sure he knew that he was lying. But he didn't say anything else.

(Later, Miller would write his report. All charges dropped on account of self-defense. Lorelei Tsing would be charged with the murders of Emerson and Lovejoy. After all, they were killed with bullets from the same stolen gun she was holding when she died. It would be written about in the papers as a case in which there were no loose ends. A month later, Miller would turn in his badge and leave the force forever. Bellamy would try and find it within himself to feel regret. He would fail as he had failed at so many other things.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy, still feeling stunned at the evening's turn of events, was completely free to go. It was half-past ten now, and he knew there was still one horrible task left for him to do. First, he had to know exactly how to accomplish it, so before he went anywhere, he went to Arkadia General, the hospital where they had taken Clarke. Once upon a time, she might have worked there. Maybe then, she never would have gotten involved in this horrible mess, or maybe she wouldn't have been around to help create it in the first place.

Maybes and what-ifs, Bellamy was tired of them. This time last night, he'd had so many hopes about the direction his life could go in. Now he knew. He was weary, covered in blood, still sporting the bruises from his pummeling the night before. The woman at reception looked alarmed to see the state he was in, and she tried to page a doctor, but Bellamy stopped her. "I'm fine, I'm not here for…" He sighed. "The blood isn't mine. I'm here to check on the status of a patient. Her name is Clarke Griffin."

There was a brief silence as the receptionist redirected her attention to this new task. She looked at him and delivered the news with the clinical sympathy of someone who was well-used to telling people things they didn't want to hear. "Ms. Griffin was rushed into emergency surgery two hours ago."

Bellamy's stomach sank at that, but there was a spark of relief too. She was still alive. She was still breathing. As long as that was true, then he'd still have hope. "Is she - how is she -" Bellamy ran his tongue over his dry lips, trying to get a hold of himself. "Do you know when she'll be out?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's all the information I can provide at this time."

Bellamy nodded, mumbled a thank you, and then turned around. There were rows of chairs behind him. There was a young man with his head in his hands, murmuring a prayer. There was an older couple, mid-fifties, sleeping on each other's shoulders. There was a little girl crying and someone who Bellamy thought might be her older brother rubbing soothing circles on her back. And Bellamy could see himself sinking into one of them, sitting rigid, still, unmoving, until they called her name out, even if it took days, like the old woman in the corner was doing.

But, though he was ashamed to admit it, what Bellamy wanted to do most of all was go home. And there was still one more stop he had to make first.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The key felt heavy in his pocket, and Bellamy lingered by the door for a very long time before unlocking it. He didn't want to do this. Hours ago, he'd been so sure he was going to die. And for a brief moment, he wished that he had. Then he shook himself out of that line of thinking and knew that what he was about to do was much braver than running headfirst into Cage Wallace's lair or lying to save a girl who might already be dead.

But his job would not be fulfilled until he did it. He slid the key in the lock and opened the door. Sitting on the couch was Madi, looking very young, and very scared. Next to her was a woman that, based on Clarke's drawings and based on her descriptions, was most likely Indra. Madi's eyes widened and Bellamy knew exactly what he looked like, what he'd looked like to everyone who had seen him that night. Like a nightmare. Like he'd been through hell. Bellamy wasn't exactly quick to disagree. She jumped off the couch, meeting him in the middle of the room. Indra stood up, but remained where she was.

Before Madi could say anything, he made sure to tell her the good news. Because if he lead with the bad news, the good news wouldn't matter at all. "It's over. No one is going to hurt you anymore." He looked at the ground, finding it hard to meet her eyes. "Clarke and I made sure of it."

There was only the slightest hint of relief in Madi's face, but she asked the question he knew was coming. It didn't prepare him any better. "Where's Clarke?"

"She got shot," he said, his face steady, but his voice breaking.

Almost immediately, tears started welling up. "But she's gonna be okay," Madi said.

Bellamy shook his head. "I don't know."

For a moment, Bellamy was prepared to catch her if her knees gave out, to hold her if she came rushing into his arms, but he wasn't surprised when a fist pummelled sharply against his chest. And another. And another. "You said you'd protect her!" she cried, the punches getting more rapid, but no real force behind them as the tears slid more freely down her face. "You said that nothing would happen to her!"

"I know," Bellamy said, standing firmly against her blows, his face stoic, his voice steady. "I'm sorry."

"You promised!"

"I know."

"THAT WAS YOUR JOB AND YOU DIDN'T DO IT!" Her final scream was loud and strained, with all the agony and terror and sorrow that was running through Bellamy's own blood. What is left of the world now? That was what he was thinking, and he knew, as she finally collapsed, exhausted, against him, that was what Madi was thinking too. He held her for a brief moment and she held him back. Then, she tore herself from his grip and ran to Indra, still wracked with sobs. Bellamy stood there for one moment longer, taking slight solace in Indra's nod of respect.

Then he turned to go, lingering just long enough to set his key down on the counter. He was never coming back here again. No matter what happened.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(A week later, he and Madi would meet for coffee and he would tell her everything. He wouldn't lie. He wouldn't leave any details out. He would go over that night in excruciating detail and when he was finished she would take his hand and say thank you. And between them would pass a moment of unique connection that could only exist between the only two people who knew everything Clarke had done and loved her anyway.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It was nearing midnight when Bellamy finally made his way home. His car was still at the warehouse so he'd had to take the subway, ignoring the stares from the few commuters still out. He opened the door, feeling weary and heartsick. Then, there was a dull moment of surprise when he saw Octavia's brown-haired head on the couch, watching television. "What are you doing home?" he asked, in a voice that was tiredly trying to be authoritative.

"I'm eighteen, Bell. I can stay home alone one night." He could practically hear her rolling her eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to smile at it. He couldn't even bring himself to take another step. He stood there, frozen, looking at the back of his sister's head, thinking about how much he loved her, thinking about how much he had just lost, wondering how he could possibly trust himself to close his eyes without his memories replaying images he never wanted to see again.

And then, his sister turned around, a smile on her face. It died when she saw him. There was Clarke's blood, now brown and dried, covering his clothes and his hands. There was his face, swollen and bruised, a bloody handprint on his cheek. But Bellamy was sure that it was the look in his eyes that worried his sister most. She jumped to her feet, standing an arm's length away from him, her brow furrowed and her eyes wide. "Bellamy, what happened?"

And only then did he let himself cry, falling into his sister's arms, clutching her so tightly it was as if his life depended on it. His face was a mess of tears and scabs and snot, and gasping sobs fell out of him like they'd been waiting to tumble out of his lips. It was only then that he let himself truly feel the weight of that night, how awful it was, the sordidness of it all, how dirty he felt, how guilty, how desolate, how sad. The ways in which he'd failed, the things he had promised himself never to do. The people he had let down and the person who had let him down.

(It would take a long time for Octavia to find out just what had gone down that night. Bellamy never liked to tell her about his cases, especially the darker ones. Perhaps it was his way of protecting her, or perhaps it was his way of protecting himself, of making sure that when he came home, there was something pure and untainted to come home to. All he would tell her for the longest time was that there was a girl. And he had loved her. And she was gone.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Waking up the next morning was far more painful than last time. Every part of him felt raw and blistered and painful. His stab wound was throbbing, his face was tender, and his heart was sick. He didn't have the luxury of waking up and experiencing that one sleepy moment in which he didn't remember the horror of the night before. He remembered what had happened right away. Bellamy suspected he must have been dreaming about it.

Octavia had asked many questions to no avail, and eventually she helped him out of his bloodstained shirt and into bed. She'd gasped at the stitches, but she was kind enough not to comment on it. Yesterday, he'd woken up to the lemony smell of Clarke's floral sheets. Today, the tangy scent of her dried blood still hung in the air.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy felt strange walking back into the hospital. He wanted to be stronger, but the truth was, his breakfast tasted like cardboard in his mouth and Octavia had to ask him three times whether or not he needed a ride anywhere before he finally heard her. He lied to her, something he tried to avoid, told her he was going to work on a case.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

But Bellamy didn't answer. He just shrugged, finished his food and left. And now he was here. It looked like he'd be one of the sad patrons of the waiting room after all. He wasn't family, but she didn't really have family except for Madi. So Bellamy was unsure how much information he'd be allowed to have.

He was about to make his way to the receptionist's desk again when someone caught his eye. Madi. Sitting in a chair in the waiting room, looking desperately sad, and shockingly small. But she was holding two cups of coffee in her hand. And when she saw him, she made her way to where he was standing and wordlessly handed him one.

Bellamy, biting back tears, nodded a silent thank you and sat down by her side. "Clarke's out of surgery," Madi said quietly.

"Is she…"

"Critical condition. We can't see her yet."

That was okay. Bellamy had nothing but time.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Hours later, Bellamy was feeling stiff and sore and the silence between him and Madi felt simultaneously stifling and unbreakable. But what was there to say? Bellamy didn't feel like killing time with a book, or his phone, or the football game playing on the TV in the corner. Everything felt insignificant and pointless compared to what he and Madi were facing down right now.

When the sun started to set and Bellamy had had all three meals at the vending machine, he decided it was time to go home. "You need a ride?" he asked Madi as he stood to go.

She shook her head. "I should stay."

"You should sleep in a real bed. Let me take you home." He wanted to say something comforting like, she'll still be here tomorrow. But they didn't know that for sure, did they? Besides, Madi didn't need more convincing. She just needed someone to give her permission, to tell her that it was okay if she needed to leave. Bellamy knew that he had a sister waiting for him, a life waiting for him. He couldn't stay all night.

The thing was, Madi was waiting for Clarke to get better so things could go back to normal. So they could have their shared life back. Bellamy was waiting because he didn't know how to do anything else. There was his real life waiting, more cases, more girlfriends, but Bellamy had to see this through. It didn't matter what the right thing to do might be. He wasn't strong enough to fight this need, and he wasn't even going to try.

So, he drove Madi home in silence, made Octavia dinner, and put in his voicemail that he wasn't taking any new cases for the indefinite future. And he didn't stop to think about what he was doing for too long as he avoided Octavia's worried glances. The day had been long and full of nothing. He wondered if this was what life would be like from now on.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Madi beat him to the hospital the next day, only he didn't realize. She was talking with one of the doctors. Naturally, she was Clarke's emergency contact which meant she got all the medical updates. So he sat in his same chair, distantly wondering if he'd be coming here often enough to have a usual seat. He hoped not. God, he hoped not.

He was stunned and scared when Madi walked up with red-rimmed eyes, looking a little bit shaken up. But her news was good. "She's stable. But they had a problem with infection and…" Bellamy could see Madi trying to repeat exactly what the doctor had said. "I guess she was injected with something earlier that day to knock her out. They're having trouble identifying what it was and I guess it's causing complications."

Bellamy shook his head. Clarke was the medical expert, not him. "So what does that mean?"

Madi bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. "She's in a coma. They're optimistic, but…"

But. He didn't say anything. What could he say?

"They say we can go see her now."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Madi went first, of course, and she stayed in the room a long time. When she came out, an hour and a half later, her face was flushed and her eyes were watery and she looked almost ashamed. "You could have gone in with me."

Bellamy shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

She nodded, somewhat understanding. But she took a seat next to him, which meant that it was his turn. The walk felt long, but it was just down the hall. And when he went inside, he almost thought he had the wrong room. It wasn't that she looked any different - she didn't. But somehow, seeing Clarke here, in a white gown, pale, unmoving, with tubes in her arm and oxygen in her nose felt incompatible with the almost overwhelmingly vivid person he'd gotten to know.

He sat down in the stiff-backed chair next to her bed, just as comfortable as the one in the waiting room. He watched her for a long moment, he didn't know how long. But soon enough, a nurse came in. Her name tag spelled out MAYA in black letters. She shot him a sympathetic look. "How are you today, sir?" she asked politely, adjusting Clarke's tubes and the bags hanging next to her bed.

Bellamy meant to say something standard, but what came out was a shell-shocked voice saying, "I don't know what I'm doing here."

Maya looked at him, and Bellamy hated the pity he saw there. "Well, you can try talking to her."

He wanted to laugh. "It's not like she can hear me."

"Some people would disagree."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. "Do you?"

Maya's face was an open book. It was clear she didn't. It was clear that she felt, as he did, that Clarke was somewhere far, far away, in the kind of deep sleep that resembled death more than life. She simply said, "When she gets better, it'll matter that you were here."

Bellamy didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He stayed silent until she left the room. He could hear her voice whispering, "Dying for you is a pretty shitty way to say sorry."

"You know what would be less shitty?" he said. His voice sounded loud in the silence of the room. "Not dying. Maybe you could try that."

But Bellamy knew that he was only talking to himself. He didn't feel close to Clarke when he looked at her, and not when he talked to her either. But he felt something when he held her hand, so that was what he did. That was what he did for a very long time.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The next week passed slowly, with little change in Clarke's condition. Madi passed on the messages from the doctors and Bellamy would nod as if he understood, but all he knew was that the doctors were optimistic but in truth, they didn't know. As two days at the hospital turned into three and then four, Bellamy felt like he was there for Madi's sake more than anything. He didn't know if she truly wanted him there, but he felt like she shouldn't be alone. And he knew that Clarke wouldn't want her to be alone, either. Being there for Madi felt like the best he could do by Clarke, so that was what he did. He never thought beyond the next hour.

Madi spent long stretches in Clarke's room but Bellamy stopped by only briefly. When she asked him if he wanted to come in with her, he said, "It's okay. I'll wait here." Somehow, he'd started to be able to focus on other things. He had a book with him and he usually read while Madi went in. But when a week had passed since the night when everything had stopped, she looked at him, confused.

"I don't understand. Why not?"

Bellamy opened his mouth to respond, but when he realized he didn't know what to say, he closed it again.

"You've been different," she said, and he knew what she was talking about. "What changed?" She asked the question like she already knew the answer, but Bellamy figured that if anybody deserved an explanation, it was her.

So what he said was, "Can I buy you coffee?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(To tell everything that happened that night exactly as it was to someone he knew would understand was like purging himself of the last lingering traces of horror that night, and truthfully that entire day, had left in him. It was cathartic, and healing in some ways. And when it was over, he was left only with love he couldn't rid himself of, an overwhelming sense of sorrow and a distant longing for life before he'd taken this case, before he'd realized just how much he was capable of losing. He felt closer to Madi that afternoon than he'd felt towards anyone since Clarke got shot.

But they never spoke about it again.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The cycle of crappy coffee, stiff-backed chairs, and waiting for something he thought would never happen felt like it would never end. The days following that night were a timeless blur, especially because they followed the most intense months of his life. He'd helped a murderer. He'd killed a man. He'd lied to the police.

He'd fallen in love.

It was like time had stopped the moment Clarke's eyes had slid shut. That was the only way he could understand what things felt like now, like a void where his daily life should have been. But almost two weeks after everything, when he was in the car on his way home from the hospital, his phone started ringing. It was Madi, who he'd just left behind.

"Madi?" he said, and he heard the nervousness in his voice. "What is it?"

Her voice was tearful. But not in a bad way. "They identified the drug, and um… They said she should wake up in the next couple of hours."

"Oh."

"Are you coming back?"

That question threw him for a second. He hadn't thought about what he'd do if Clarke woke up. He hadn't allowed himself to. But when he said, "No. I'm not," he realized that somewhere inside of him, he'd known all along.

She hung up not long after that and Bellamy tried to keep his eyes on the road. But when the street lines in front of him started looking wavy and his eyes were stinging, he pulled onto the shoulder. He was silent for a moment, but only a moment. And then he was weeping into his hands by the side of the highway, grateful and angry and fucking sad all at the same time.

But mostly he was overwhelmed with relief. Because he still thought, in spite of everything he knew, that the world was a better place if Clarke Griffin was in it.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The next day, he was lingering by the open door of her hospital room. There were only three short steps before he'd see her and she'd see him. Instead of wondering whether or not he'd have the strength to face her and every terrible thing they'd done together, he went in. It was like the time that had seemed to stall from the moment she'd closed her eyes had only just now started again. His breath was gone but his heartbeat was loud.

And her blue eyes were open and looking at him, mirroring every emotion flurrying up inside of him on her pretty, living face. "Bellamy," she breathed. He took a few more steps into the room, closer to her.

Enough steps so that Miller had enough space to come in behind him. Clarke's eyes narrowed, confusedly switching focus from Bellamy to Miller. "Clarke," Miller said. "It's great to see you're feeling better." But there was no real feeling behind his tone, and Bellamy knew it was because of the truth Miller suspected. He was never good at hiding his emotions. "I'm Officer Miller, I was assigned to your case."

Bellamy remained silent, but he was close enough to her bedside to slide his hand in hers, squeeze it reassuringly and pull it away. Clarke didn't look at him, but she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if she was in pain. "Okay," she said, quietly.

"We have no reason to believe Madi's life is in danger anymore, though we really would have preferred you come to the police instead of a PI about a case like this. Lorelei Tsing and Cage Wallace were both pronounced dead on arrival. We believe they were working with two men named Lovejoy and Emerson who were also found dead days before your accident. We have extended a direct line to the precinct to Madi should she feel unsafe at any time, but she hasn't reported any incidents for the last two weeks. She's safe."

Clarke looked down. "And what are the charges?" she said dully.

Bellamy jumped in. "I got off on self defense on both accounts."

Clarke looked suspicious, then worried, then confused. Miller jumped in, and he sounded weary. Like he knew he was doing the wrong thing. "The evidence corroborates Detective Blake's statement that he killed Wallace and Tsing to protect you. Would you like to dispute any claims I have made today?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Was anything I said incorrect?"

Clarke's eyes darted towards Bellamy's for a quick moment, but she shook her head.

"Well, the commissioner is eager to close this case, so that, Miss Griffin, is your statement." Miller turned to go, lingering in the doorway, waiting for Bellamy.

"It's over, Clarke," he said, and she looked at him, grateful, nodding, tears welling up in her eyes.

He turned, following Miller. Clarke's voice sounded behind him. "Wait, Bellamy -"

"I'll go get Madi." And then he walked out the door, past the waiting room, through the automatic doors, and into the fresh air without looking back once.

Yes. It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tough ending, i know. but healing is a process, and we're gonna watch bellamy try to do that. hit me up on tumblr @bellamysgriffin and i'll see ya later!!


	10. I Almost Called You 100 Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy tries to move on. He almost does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is just angst all the way through, and it's kinda filler, but the end of this chapter is going to lead us into our final act. this is a little late, and that's because i've had three essays due and a test this week, so it's not been the most stress free, and i haven't had a lot of time. unfortunately....... this is the last pre-written chapter. i have the next one outlined and half written so it should be up at the usual time but just in case it isn't just be a lil patient with me pls <3\. 
> 
> make sure to let me know what you think!! predictions are, as always, very fun to read. this might be the last cliffhanger you get but......... we'll see. okay. love u guys. enjoy xx

When Bellamy woke up the next morning, he was waking up in a different world. He hadn't known how far he would go for love, and he hadn't known where his limits were. He hadn't known he had limits at all. Now he did. Some people lived their entire lives without ever finding out.

Lucky them.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Octavia looked surprised to see him standing at the stove, but the sight of his sister, hair disheveled by sleep, wearing one of his old t-shirts, was more precious today than it had been before. "You're home," she said.

"Sunny side up?"

"It's just, you've been working so much."

Bellamy nodded. "I've finished that case. I'm going to be around now."

Octavia grinned, coming up behind Bellamy and resting her chin on his shoulder. Then she wrinkled her nose. "You should let me take over."

So he sat at his kitchen table, watching the sun climb higher in the sky as his sister made him eggs. It wasn't enough to heal the hole in his heart. But it was a start.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Within days, he had a new case. And it only took him four days to solve. Another cheating boyfriend. Then another case, this time dealing with fraud, which took him a little longer but not much. He was hired by some startup company to do a background check on a potential employee which involved two weeks' worth of stakeouts. There were days between cases, and those were the worst.

If Bellamy had a new case, then he had something to focus on besides Clarke and what she had done to him and what he had done to her. He didn't have to wonder whether or not he broke her heart like she broke his, he didn't have to wonder how much of it was real or whether she was using him all along. He only had to focus on solving the case and getting his money.

No one asked to be his partner. No one gave him a key to their apartment. The line between client and detective was drawn with permanent ink and that was just how Bellamy liked it.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

But while the days got easier, the nights were always hard. He used to spend his nights with Clarke and now he spent them alone. And that was okay, he spent them alone before. But it was hard to keep from wondering how she was. He hadn't heard from Madi since he left the hospital that day, but he knew that she would call him if she needed to call him.

Which meant Clarke was okay. Still, he'd sit at his window and wonder and wish and try to find a happy ending in all this mess and every time, he'd come up short. And the last thing his traitorous heart would wonder before a merciful, if fitful, sleep washed over him, was maybe she was out there thinking about him too.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

About a month and a half after he left Clarke, an interesting case came into view in the form of a young woman named Josephine Lightbourne. Missing person. She was trying to find an ex-boyfriend, though she remained decidedly close-lipped on why they split up.

Bellamy only had to meet her the one time to get an idea of who she was. She was flirty, she was bold, but mostly she looked out for herself. It seemed she had just one weak spot. "His name is Gabriel." Her face sombered as she spoke about him. "He left. In the middle of the night. Didn't even give me a chance to explain."

"And when was this?"

Josephine shrugged, regaining her couldn't-care-less attitude. "A year ago. Give or take."

"Which is it? Give or take?"

She rolled her eyes. "Give. Can you find him or not?"

"Sure," Bellamy said. "I can find him." And he was happy to do it, because it wasn't right to do that to a person, it just wasn't. People had to face things, even when they were hard. Even when you knew it might hurt someone you care about. Bellamy knew this better than most.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The thing about Josephine was that, when he walked in to meet her, he thought she was Clarke. She had that same blonde hair. But she wasn't Clarke, she wasn't even a pale imitation. The night after he met his new client, his finger hovered over Clarke's name in his contacts. He missed her. With every bone in his body, good god, he missed her.

It would be so simple. Just one button. He just had to let his finger fall. It would be so easy. It would feel so right.

It would be a hell of a lot easier than turning his phone off and going to sleep, which was what he ended up doing.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Surprisingly, Gabriel Santiago was a very hard person to track down. Harder than most missing person cases Bellamy had worked and he was grateful for that. Each curveball was another distraction and it was finally, finally starting to work. He was starting to be able to spend hours at a stretch without thinking of Clarke. It was a little victory, but he would take what he could get.

The search led him through databases, temp agencies, mansions, and every bar in the city. Gabriel had been spotted everywhere which meant that he was nowhere at all. It took a whole month of digging, but Bellamy found the guy hiding out at Sanctum, a suburb a couple hours away from Arkadia, under the name of Xavier. Bellamy pinned him down through a charity that the guy had been donating to for years. He changed his mailing address, but not his name.

When Bellamy finally saw Gabriel face to face, it was at a local Sanctum coffee shop of all places. It was a small town and there weren't many other cafes, so when the man in the corner table working behind a laptop matched the pictures Josephine gave him, he knew he'd done it. And he felt it, he finally fucking felt it, for the first time since meeting Clarke, the old satisfaction that he'd get after a case gone right. He was going to look this asshole in the eye and make him do the right thing. Some things couldn't ever be fixed, but some things could. That was why he liked being a detective. Because sometimes, you could fix things.

"Gabriel Santiago?"

The man looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise, but it didn't take long for his face to settle into an expression of amused resignation. He shut his laptop. "You're good at your job. I've been dodging detectives for months."

Bellamy didn't wait for an invitation. He just took a seat across from Gabriel who, to his credit, didn't protest. "You have two options. You can come back with me and I can take you to her, or I go back alone, I give her your address and you have to move."

Gabriel looked amused. "I see. And what do you recommend I do?"

There was a momentary silence between them. "She said you didn't tell her you were going when you left her. The way I see it, a clean break is always better."

For the first time, Gabriel started to look a little agitated, almost sad. "You don't understand. That was a clean break for Josie and me."

But Bellamy wasn't in the mood for excuses. "You should have just told her you didn't love her instead of leaving in the middle of the night while she was sleeping like a coward."

Gabriel blinked, but he didn't seem surprised. He was quiet, almost contemplative. "Maybe I am a coward," he said. "But I couldn't lie. Not to Josie."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "So you do love her?" Gabriel's silence was answer enough. "What'd she do, then, cheat on you?"

Gabriel didn't seem to hear Bellamy, and for the first time, Bellamy could see the sadness draped over the young man's shoulders. How could he not have noticed it before? For a moment, Bellamy wondered if he had his own cloak of sadness following him around wherever he went. After a long moment, Gabriel started talking. "She was becoming someone I didn't like. She did things I didn't think she was capable of." Questions sprang to Bellamy's lips but he stayed silent, watching as Gabriel shut his eyes tightly, painfully, grappling with a philosophy he must have developed long ago. "Love is nothing without limits," he said. "It doesn't matter how much you love someone, it doesn't matter what you want, the line has to be drawn somewhere. No matter how much it hurts."

He was looking at Bellamy now, caught up in what he was saying. Bellamy felt his heart pound painfully against his chest. When Clarke's image came into his mind, for the first time in months, he didn't try and chase her away.

Gabriel kept talking. "The truth is, I knew I had to let her go and I had to do it that night, in that way, because if I didn't…" He took a deep breath. "She would have kept going right down that path and I would have followed her. I would have followed her with my eyes open. So you see?"

Bellamy nodded.

"I left because I didn't want to leave. Because I thought leaving would kill me and I had to prove to myself that it wouldn't. I left because…" Gabriel shook his head, shrugging helplessly. "There have to be limits."

A long and heavy silence hung between the two men. Once Gabriel purged himself of his story, even if he didn't disclose any details, he seemed weary. Bellamy asked, knowing that it was maybe one of the dumbest financial decisions he could make, "You want me to tell her I couldn't find anything?"

Gabriel looked surprised, momentarily grateful. But he said, "No, I'll go back with you."

"Why?" Bellamy said, baffled.

"Because all I've thought about since the minute I left was seeing her again."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

As if she could sense, from wherever she was, the weight that conversation with Gabriel placed on his shoulders, he heard from Clarke only days after. It was just one word.

Clarke: Bellamy?

He stared at the name in his phone for a very long time. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask. Mostly he wanted to know why she reached out.

(And maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about how his name had become a question when for a long time, he'd wanted to be the answer.)

Hours passed. He turned his phone off. Watched a movie with Octavia. Couldn't pay attention for the life of him. He hated that the question that was his name was still hanging in the air between them. That and so many other things. Maybe she thought he hated her. Maybe she thought that he had already put it all behind him. But he didn't and he hadn't.

(He was now, and always would be, in the very middle, in the very thick of it, caught up and tangled in his helpless love for her.)

Octavia looked at him with that half-concerned, half-confused expression she'd been throwing his way for months now. "What's up with you tonight?"

"Nothing," he said, trying his best to brush her off, but when he saw the irritated look that came over her face, he figured the fight that had been stewing between them was probably ready to make its appearance tonight.

"I'm not an idiot, Bellamy. You don't even talk to me anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just… I have a lot going on, and -"

"You always have a lot going on. But you never iced me out before," she said. Bellamy was silent, looking down at the ground, not brave enough to meet his sister's gaze. "What happened that night?" It wasn't the first time she asked, and part of Bellamy wanted to tell her. But he knew it wouldn't be like it was with Madi, like a purge of every horrible moment between him and Clarke. He'd closed the book on that night the day he walked out on her. And he knew that Octavia might not understand - not just why he left Clarke, but any of it. And he couldn't face it all again, not when he was just putting it behind him.

So all he said was, "I lost someone." And then, he walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, fighting all the dark memories rearing their ugly heads. When he powered his phone on, he saw one more text.

Clarke: I just want to say I'm sorry.

She was sorry. But that was all. Bellamy deleted the messages, but not her number. He couldn't risk picking up the phone by accident and hearing her voice. It had to be all or nothing. Just as Gabriel knew he had to leave Josephine in the middle of the night, Bellamy knew that he might not survive another goodbye with Clarke. And he couldn't see a way out of the dark for them. God knows he spent long enough looking for one.

So her messages were gone. And Bellamy didn't respond with what he wanted to say, which was of course, Me too. But he almost did.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Four months since he last saw Raven, the night he realized the lengths he was willing to go to keep Clarke safe, he got a text.

Raven: Camp Jaha. 7pm. You better not be late.

He wasn't. He was actually ten minutes early, but Raven was already waiting for him. She looked as if she had been there for a long time. But her eyes turned on him the minute he walked in the door, and Bellamy was surprised to find a glare instead of a smile.

"Raven," he said tentatively.

She didn't look away from him as she said, "Murphy?"

"What's up?" Murphy said from behind counter.

"Do you recall asking me what it would take for me to go out with you?"

Murphy grinned. "Naturally."

She finally looked away from Bellamy, smiling sweetly. "Punch Bellamy in the face for me."

Murphy nodded, definitely amused, but he said, "Okay, I'm just gonna…" Then he moved halfway down the bar, away from whatever mess was about to go down.

"Hello to you too," Bellamy said, sitting down on the stool next to Raven. "Mind telling me what this is about?"

"What else would it be about?" she said, and he knew the next word coming out of her mouth before she even said it. "Clarke."

Bellamy looked away. "Murphy, can I get a drink?"

As Murphy prepared Bellamy his usual, Raven went on. "One night, we're all here at this bar, and the next thing I hear, Clarke got shot and it's not looking too good." Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut. "And you know what the worst part was? I didn't even hear that from you."

It was a few days after the shootout, another day of watered down coffee, stiff-backed chairs, and endless waiting. He realized that he hadn't seen anyone else waiting for Clarke which felt wrong. More people should be here. The whole fucking city of Arkadia should care. He mentioned something to that effect to Madi and she told him that she'd already contacted all of Clarke's friends. Everyone who would care. But Bellamy knew that Raven had a thing about hospitals - when a minor injury turned into a permanent disability due to a misdiagnosis, Bellamy had never known her to set foot in one ever again. Maybe distantly he thought of reaching out, but it seemed more than he was capable of doing at the time.

"You're right, Raven," he said, "It should have come from me. But I couldn't - I was -" He was having trouble reliving it, let alone reliving it out loud. He wanted to tell her that he was too consumed by his own grief and worry to tend to anyone else's, no matter how unfair that was.

Raven simply replied, "You said you had her."  
Bellamy looked away again, sighing. "I know."

"What the hell happened?" Her voice was harsh and accusing, and Bellamy felt like he probably deserved that.

"I failed. I'm sorry."

Raven looked at him for a long time, daring him to meet her gaze. Finally, Bellamy looked up at her. "Shit," she said. "I really thought yelling at you would make me feel better."

"I'm sorry it didn't," he replied as Murphy finally got his drink to him. "Look, I know it was hard, but she's okay now." He meant for that to come out reassuring, but Raven returned the sentiment with a bitter laugh.

"If you say so."

Bellamy's heart sank. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one who's been icing me out lately." Raven shrugged, taking a long drink. "I tried calling her dozens of times, but she never answered. Madi said she just needed some time to herself. Then I clocked her name on the schedule. I usually can't do night shifts, but I wanted to see her."

Mecca. Clarke must have gone back to work. "Okay, and?"

"She dodged me all night, then an hour and a half into the shift she told the manager she wasn't feeling well. And no one's going to argue with a girl with a bullet wound so he dismissed her. She put in her two weeks the next day, used up all her vacation time so she didn't have to come in. I haven't heard from her since."

There was a long silence after that. "That doesn't sound like Clarke," Bellamy said.

"You mean she didn't tell you about it?"

Bellamy bit his tongue. There was so much Raven didn't know.

"Bellamy," she said insistently.

"Clarke and I don't… I haven't seen her either."

"What happened?"

"She was my client. Now she's not."

"I saw you two that night. You're shit at lying to me, Bellamy." He didn't say anything, just took another swig of his drink. "She's ignoring you too?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Raven."

"Tough."

"Murphy. Another?" he said, ignoring her. There were some secrets he held too close to his chest. He cared about Raven, she cared about him, but she would never know what had happened between him and Clarke. No one would.

"So," Murphy said, and the tone lightened just a little. "You still need me to punch him?"

"The verdict's still out."

"What'd you do, Bellamy? Usually, I'm the one on the receiving end of Raven's wrath."

"He's covering up for Clarke."

"Covering up for her? What'd she do?"

"It's not like that," Bellamy said instantly.

"How is she doing, by the way?" Murphy said, offhandedly. "It's been a few weeks since she came in."

That stopped Raven and Bellamy both. Raven was the first to speak. "She's been here?"

"Yeah." Murphy raised his eyebrows when both his customers had gone completely silent. "What, since when is it weird to see Clarke?"

"Since she got shot," Raven said.

Murphy shrugged.

"You knew?"

"I went to see her in the hospital after she woke up." Another silence. "Okay, now you guys are really weirding me out."

"What was she like?" Raven said.

"In the hospital? A little out of it, I guess. I don't know, she was Clarke."

"No, at the bar. I mean… how has she… did she come with anyone?" Raven asked.

Murphy softened, looking at Raven and Bellamy in turn. But he mostly looked irritated. "No, she just came to drink. I told her to take it easy last time, she said they were upping her medication, so my guess is she'll be back when she's off it." Again, he was met with blank stares, so in a final burst of irritation, he said, "What, do you want me to have you guys on speed dial the next time she walks through the door?"

"Yes," Raven said, slamming down a twenty and leaving both Bellamy and Murphy behind without so much as a goodbye.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy's eyes were open. Sunlight was streaming through the window. And Clarke was touching his face, her touch gentle, as gentle as the night she stitched his stab wound and told him she wanted to keep him safe. And dammit, Bellamy knew that things were better as they were, that he was doing the right thing, that it would only get easier as time went on, that it was a fucking mess and the only way out of it was through.

But her voice was soft. And her face was unbruised and just as pretty as it was the first time he saw it, when he walked into that coffee shop and her blonde head stood out to him like a beacon. "Thank you for letting me in," she whispered into his ear.

He leaned in to the sound of it. He couldn't help it. Her hand was pressed to his cheek just like it was that fateful night, before her eyes slid shut and nothing was the same ever again. "Clarke," he said, like it was something holy, like it was something real.

"We were so close to something, weren't we?"

"Clarke…" It seemed to be all he was capable of saying.

"We could forget about everything that's happened. We could try again."

"Clarke," he breathed.

"Don't you want to try again?"

Something warm was sliding between her fingers, down the side of his face. It smelled like iron. It tasted like blood. He opened his mouth to say something and then he woke up, tangled in bedsheets, aching, aching, aching. He had felt her touch. She was right there.

And when he opened his mouth, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that in his dream, he was going to say yes.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

So this was his life now, and it was fucked up and it was hard and sometimes everything felt like a chore and then sometimes he could smile, sometimes he could have a good day and sometimes he could pass a night without dreaming about her, without wondering where she was, without wondering how she was doing.

So things would get easier, even if he didn't want them to, and pain would turn into memory which would turn back into pain, but a little less each time.

So four and a half months would pass and that was more time without her than with her and his world was still turning and his sister was still shining and he and Raven were still drinking together.

So life went on.

Until his phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Until Bellamy picked it up.

"Madi?"

"Hi, Bellamy," she said, her voice nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes," she said.

"Alright."

There was a brief pause. "I mean, no. I guess not."

Bellamy stopped pacing his room, breath hitched. "Are you getting letters again?"

"No," Madi said quickly, "no, that's - that's been fine since - that's over now. That's not why I called."

Bellamy furrowed his brow. "Why did you call then?"

"I don't really know how this works."

"I'm pretty sure you speak into the phone and then your voice comes out on my end." It was a crappy joke, but then, his heart was racing. It was all he could do to stay calm.

"No, I just… I checked, I don't think you have a website or anything."

"A website?"

"I'm calling because I, um… I'd like to hire you."

Now that threw him for a loop. "Hire me? Hire me for what? What do you need a detective for?"

The pause on the other end was brief, but it felt like an eternity to Bellamy. But maybe somewhere deep inside of him, he'd known. He'd known why she called.

Finally, she said, "A missing person case. I need you to help me find Clarke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhh where is she!!!!!!! also, i had to put a scene with my man gabriel in it bc.... i love hims o much. you can find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin, i would love to hear from you xx


	11. One Final Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes Madi's case and searches for Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. i cannot believe today is the final show day, it's so emotional and also so disappointing because of how deeply this show has let us down. but i have always loved and cherished my time in the fandom, hanging out with all of you, and this fic (i hope) encapsulates my love for bellarke. there's only one more update after this, and idk exactly when it will be, but i would love any comments/kudos/whatever, let me know what you think and what you want to see in the final chapter! much love! xx

Bellamy realized he hadn't ever seen Madi's apartment before tonight. Walking into the building had been enough deja vu for one evening and he was glad he didn't have to confront Clarke's actual home, with all its familiar smells and sacred memories. But this felt just as bad. He had almost turned the corner. He had almost gotten past it.

(At least, that was what he had been telling himself for the past two weeks.)

Then, one call from Madi and he came running. She was nervous when he arrived, but she looked much better than when he had last seen her. Her undereye bags were gone, her hair had been cut, and though she seemed nervous, there was less tension in her shoulders. In short, she seemed like a person who wasn't looking over her shoulder every two minutes.

She'd made tea for them both but his mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust and he only took a small sip to be polite. Madi was fidgeting with her hands and Bellamy realized that maybe she was feeling awkward because it had been a long time since they'd last seen each other. For Bellamy, it felt like yesterday.

Or maybe she was nervous because she was worried. "I don't know how this works," she said, "I have some savings, but…"

She trailed off looking towards him for guidance. "You got a dollar?" he asked.

Madi nodded, pulling one out of her pocket and handing it to him. "Here."

"Great. Now I'm on your payroll, which means I can officially claim you as my client. That makes whatever I have to do to find Clarke strictly legal." He wanted to emphasize the legal part, he wanted to at least say out loud that there were things he still stood for. But Madi's eyes widened.

"Bellamy, I can't just -"

"Madi," he said, placing his hand over hers. "I don't want your money. And you don't owe me anything. I just want to help."  
Her eyes welled up, and she nodded a silent thank you.

"So tell me. What happened with Clarke? How long has she been missing?"

"About five days. Maybe six."

Bellamy sucked in a breath. That wasn't too long, but a lot could happen in a week. A lot of bad things. "Start from the beginning. Tell me what you know."

"Since everything, she's been… distant. But she's been good about checking in with me once a day. But six days ago she went radio silent. it wasn't that strange at first. I don't know if she told you about Wells?"

Bellamy blinked, taken aback. He did remember that conversation. Clarke's only friend - the one who died in a mugging. He nodded, mutely, wondering how he could possibly fit into this.

"That was the anniversary of his death. And every year, Clarke has this… I don't know if you would call it a ritual. I just know that she's gone the whole day. She goes somewhere and she doesn't tell anyone about it. And then she comes back the next day and everything's normal again."

"But she didn't come back."

Madi shook her head. "No. She didn't." There was a brief moment of silence. "I thought maybe she needed some more time. But… she hasn't answered any of my calls. And she always answers my calls. Even on that day." Bellamy opened his mouth to say something, but Madi went on, her voice tearful and desperate. "I'm worried something's really wrong. She hasn't been herself lately, and she keeps telling me she's fine but she barely leaves her apartment except at night. And then she comes home drunk and she won't talk to me about it. And I don't know what to do."

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and Bellamy placed his hand on her shoulder. "Madi…"

"She's always taken care of me. I want to return the favor. Can you help me?"

And as if the past five months of distance and healing and moving on and letting go fell away, Bellamy replied, without even thinking about it, "Of course."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

As soon as the door was closed behind him and he was in the warm Arkadia summer air, Bellamy felt dread pooling at the pit of his stomach. He had an idea of where to go first, but he knew what to try before he did anything. He picked up his phone, took a deep breath and dialed Clarke's number, unsure of whether or not he wanted her to pick up.

She didn't. In fact, her phone went straight to voicemail. So it was either dead or turned off. That meant he couldn't track it either. If he had only picked up when she had texted him, if he had only called her when he wanted to, if only, if only, if fucking only. But he had to treat this like he would treat any other case. The fact that he knew Clarke could be an advantage, not an obstacle, as long as he treated it that way.

Which meant he already had his first lead. Time to go back to Camp Jaha.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy wasn't going to pull any punches. He didn't know how time sensitive this was. Anyone could be behind this - maybe when Tsing and Cage were killed, that hadn't truly been the end of it. Maybe there were more people behind this operation, maybe there always would be, maybe he was doomed to stay in the middle of the danger from the moment he'd taken the case.

Or maybe it was nothing like that. Maybe he was merely looking for someone who had gone off the edge. Maybe that was worse.

Or maybe not. The truth was, that when it came to Clarke, he had no idea what he was dealing with. That hadn't always been true.

Hadn't it, though? Hadn't that been why he left? It didn't matter now. He had to stay focused. "Murphy," he said, walking into the bar.

"Oh, it's you. You meeting Raven?"

"No, I'm here to talk to you."

Murphy stopped wiping down the bar and pressed a hand to his heart. "Bellamy, I'm touched, but I'm afraid I'm taken."

"Shut up, Murphy," Bellamy said automatically. Then, "Wait, you are?"

"No, I was trying to let you down easy."

"I'm serious, I need to talk to you."

Murphy sighed. "Why do I feel like this conversation isn't going to be fun for me?"

"When is the last time you saw Clarke?"

There was a brief silence. "So it's resorted to this now, huh? You know, you could try calling her."

"Just tell me."

"I don't go telling people info about my customers, you know that. Especially not random guys about sweet, young girls they're trying to track down."

"I'm not a random guy," Bellamy said. And Clarke certainly wasn't a sweet, young girl.

"Tough."

"Look, do I need to pull out my license?"

Murphy laughed. "Last I checked, that was illegal."

"Not if you're working a case."

Murphy froze. "What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean, you're working a case?"

"Now that's something I can't tell you. Look, Murphy. You know me. I wouldn't pull this crap if it wasn't important. And I wouldn't lie to you. Alright? So I need you to tell me when you last saw Clarke."

Murphy sighed, resigned. "Okay, uh… She came in about a week ago? Maybe a little less?"

"Tuesday?" That was the night before the anniversary of Wells' death.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Was she… was anything different about her? What did she talk about?"

"She didn't say much. I don't know. She was pretty much the same as she's been since she got shot." Murphy was quiet for a moment, thinking. His arms were on the counter and he was leaning towards Bellamy across the bar. When it got down to it, you could count on Murphy. Bellamy was grateful for that. After a long silence, Murphy started speaking again. "She was talking about her dad. She doesn't usually mention him, so I just assumed they'd had a falling out or something."

Bellamy furrowed his brow. That made two dead people on Clarke's mind. "What did she say about him?"

"She said that maybe she needed to go spend some time with him. That maybe that would help."

Bellamy tried to hide the panic that he was sure was showing on his face. What did that mean? Not what he thought it meant, he hoped. "And then what?"

"Well, I had just cut her off. She was pretty wasted. I don't usually pay much mind to what drunk people say. You shouldn't either."

"Just tell me, Murphy."

Murphy groaned, turning away from Bellamy and reaching for some glasses to wipe down. Probably just something to do with his hands. "The same fucked up shit she always says. Nothing weird. And then she left." Murphy froze again, remembering something. "But she was too drunk to drive and she didn't want me to take her home, so she called somebody."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Some blond chick. Looked like she was in her thirties."

"What was her name?"

"I told you, I don't know. Clarke said she was an old friend."

Bellamy took out his phone, pulling up Clarke's instagram. She hadn't posted in almost a year, but that didn't matter. He just had to check her tagged posts. It took some scrolling, but he found a couple photos of her with friends. He showed Murphy one by one. First, Clarke and a girl named Harper. "This her?"

Murphy shook his head.

A girl named Bree. "What about this?"

"Nope."

But, as usual, third time was the charm. Some woman named Diyoza. The picture was from four years ago so Bellamy hadn't expected anything to come of it. But Murphy squinted, examining the picture. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's her."

"Did she say anything? Did she - she just left with Clarke?"

"Clarke asked her to take her somewhere. She said it was a little far. That's all I know."

"Thanks, Murphy. I mean it." Bellamy stood to leave, but Murphy stopped him.

"Call me when you find her, kay? And please don't tell Raven about this until you've fixed it or she'll kill us both."

"Duly noted," Bellamy said. Then he walked out the door into the mid-afternoon sunshine. He couldn't stop thinking about what Murphy had said - that Clarke kept talking about her father, about being with him. He couldn't dwell on what that could mean. He could only focus on the next step. All he had to do now was find Diyoza. Hopefully it wouldn't be too late.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It didn't take too long to track down Diyoza. She worked at some law firm downtown. Not the kind of people Bellamy usually came into contact with, at least not in his line of work. He had to be checked in at a front desk by a secretary who repeated multiple times that he didn't have a meeting. But when he said he needed to speak to an employee named Diyoza, she said that she'd page her, so Bellamy waited, nervously, trying to figure out how to broach the subject with the urgency it required.

She came out, looking a bit older than she'd looked in the picture on Clarke's instagram. But it was undoubtedly the same person. She looked confused at the sight of Bellamy. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

"No. But if it's alright, I'd like to talk to you."

Diyoza's face hardened. "Let me guess. In private?"

Bellamy shook his head. He didn't want to give off the wrong idea. "It doesn't have to be in private. But it's urgent."

"If you would like the firm to take a case, that doesn't go through me."

"It's about Clarke," he blurted out.

Diyoza blinked. "Then I can't help you." She turned to go, but Bellamy stepped in front of her, desperate now, and trying not to scare her. She didn't look scared, though.

"Please. I need to find her. I know you picked her up at Camp Jaha a week ago. Where did you take her?"

"Look," she said, her eyes flashing, "Whatever it was, Clarke was running from something. I'm not going to send that something after her."

"What about Madi?"

Diyoza froze. "What does Madi have to do with this?"

Slowly, he took out his phone. "I'm a private investigator. Madi hired me to find her. You're the last person to have seen her and I have reason to believe that… that Clarke's in danger." It was almost a relief to say it out loud, to acknowledge how serious the situation might be. And to see that worry reflected in the face of a concerned friend.

"You don't exactly seem like a disinterested party."

Bellamy realized that was true. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, and sometimes it got him into trouble. But he just said, "No. I'm not."

"It's been a very long time since I knew Clarke. She called because she needed help and she needed discretion. I don't know what else I can tell you."

"Don't tell me, then. Tell Madi," he said, taking a leap of faith and dialing.

Madi picked up after the second ring. "Did you find her?"

"No," Bellamy said, "but I need you to talk to someone. Tell her whatever she wants to know." He handed the phone to Diyoza who held it gingerly for a moment, looking at Bellamy with suspicion before moving across the room, out of earshot.

She wasn't on the phone for long, but it was long enough for Bellamy to start getting antsy. Finally, though, she came back. "Well?" Bellamy said, but Diyoza ignored him. She turned towards the secretary's desk, asked the woman for a pen and then returned with a post-it note.

"This is where I took her. I hope you know what you're doing," she said, but her eyes were kind. Bellamy glanced down at the paper. And suddenly he knew exactly where Clarke had gone.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He parked his car in a nearby parking lot for some supermarket chain. He didn't know how long he'd be leaving it for, but Octavia was taken care of for at least a couple days. If he needed to arrange for longer, he would. Because Diyoza dropped Clarke off at a bus station.

As he stood at the stop, he tried to imagine how Clarke must have felt, standing here alone in the dark at two in the morning, catching the last bus. Was she relieved? Was she scared? Did she have a plan, or was she just trying to find something? Maybe her alcohol-addled brain had merely fixated on the idea and she was too exhausted to fight it.

But Bellamy finally knew where Clarke was, because he knew this bus route. And the final stop, the end of the line, was Alpha. And he knew where he had heard of that town before.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He'd only been working Madi's case for a few weeks at the time, but he had gotten used to the routine of dinner at Clarke's every night. This was before everything - before he'd found her on the kitchen floor, before they went to Camp Jaha together, before he learned of her betrayal, before he'd failed at his job, before he walked out of her life, before the world he had known had crumbled.

They were splitting a cheesecake. Bellamy couldn't remember if Clarke had bought it or made it. She was leaning towards him across the counter. She smelled like lilac perfume and lemon laundry detergent. She'd been wearing a red sweater and she had looked so goddamned pretty. Even then, he hadn't been able to ignore his growing feelings for her, no matter what he had managed to convince himself.

He'd been going over the case with Clarke as usual, everything he'd done that day. Clarke listened quietly, then when he was done speaking, said, "You should take a nice vacation when this is through."

Bellamy shrugged. "I've never been on vacation."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Money's always been too tight. The only travelling I've done has been for work and the occasional funeral." That sounded sadder when he said it out loud, so he smiled tightly. "What about you, princess?"

She nodded. "I travelled a lot growing up. Mostly in Europe."

"Europe… Have you ever been to Rome?"

She smiled, almost shyly. "Yes, I have."

"I would kill to go to Rome. All that culture! Tell me, did you see the Parthenon?"

Clarke laughed. "Yeah, I saw it. You sound a little jealous, Bellamy Blake."

He laughed, too. Things were still easy then. Things still felt right. "I guess I am."

Clarke's smile faded a little. "But, uh, we had this little family cottage that we'd go to for a month every summer. That was better than all of the other vacations combined. Just me, my dad, my mom, and Wells. Those are some of my happiest memories."

There was a brief silence. Bellamy knew what it was like to lose people, but he'd always had Octavia. Clarke had had to start over from scratch. Maybe that was why she was so close with Madi, a random girl who lived in her building. Because she needed to be close with someone. "I'm sorry, Clarke."

She shook her head, but the lingering traces of sadness were still unmistakably draped around her. "It's okay. It was a long time ago."

"Where was your cottage?" he asked tentatively, not sure if she wanted to keep talking about it.

"A couple hours away, in Alpha. Cliffside, close to the lake. I haven't been back in a really long time."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until the bus driver's voice woke him up. "End of the line!" As usual, he'd been dreaming of Clarke, so as usual, he woke up aching and lonely. Was this how she woke up too? Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

With a strange feeling in his gut, he realized that for the first time, he'd see her again. He'd been so busy trying to find her that he hadn't even thought about what would happen when he did. But he'd arrived in Alpha. So it was only a matter of time.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It only took half an hour to find the address. It was one of those old vacation towns where people left the doors unlocked. Little did they know that not one but two murderers were in their midst. Still, some light digging at the public library led him right to her cliffside cottage. It was only a half mile walk away.

Bellamy took it slowly. In truth, he didn't know if he was ready for what he would find - whatever it would be. He had to believe that she would be okay. He had to believe he would too, that five months had been long enough to get over her. But he knew it wasn't, and he knew he hadn't, and he knew he just had to be brave now.

There were no cars in the cottage's driveway, but it looked about as cozy and domestic as Clarke had described. Bellamy paused for a long moment, studying the cottage. And then he started the long walk up the drive.

(Did he know, as he took step after agonizing step, that he was coming closer and closer to something massive? Did he know that his life was about to change again? Did he know what was about to happen to him - to both of them? Yes. He did. He'd underestimated Clarke Griffin before. He would never make that mistake again.)

He went around back, where the backyard overlooked the cliff, and of course, there she was. Her back was to him, her hair trailing down her shoulders, still in that familiar half-up style he was so used to, but longer now. It was golden hour, the sun hanging low and blinding in the sky, and it had set her blonde hair on fire. She was sitting right on the edge of the cliff, her legs dangling over the side. It was a long way down, but there was no tension in her shoulders.

It was like all the air had left his body. He'd dreamed of this moment so many times. Over and over again until he thought it would drive him crazy. And now that they were together, he didn't know what to say. He could turn around before she ever knew he was there. He could call Madi, send her here, and he could go back to before.

But then she turned her head, just a little, just ever-so-slightly, and Bellamy found himself searching desperately for a glimpse of her face, even just the tip of her nose. And he realized that he could never go back to before. He had tried, and he had failed, and it was over. He had returned here, where his heart was, where it had been for a very long time and all that was left to do was surrender.

He took another step and for the first time since he'd seen her, Clarke tensed. She didn't turn around, and he didn't move. But it was like a type of electricity had entered the air. Bellamy had forgotten how addicted he had been to that feeling until he got a hit of it again. "Bellamy?" she said, her voice thick with some unnameable emotion. He didn't say anything. He couldn't find it within himself to speak. But he didn't have to. "It's you, isn't it?"

Bellamy ran his tongue over his dry lips and took a deep breath. "Hey, princess," he said, and it was easier than anything he had done in the past five months. "Mind coming back from that edge?"

Clarke let out a tired laugh. It sounded so unlike her that for a moment Bellamy was stunned. "I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking."

Bellamy shook his head. That was what he was thinking, but what he said was, "I'm more worried about falling."

There was a long silence, but Bellamy didn't break it. He was still finding his footing again. He didn't want to stumble and send the whole thing toppling down. "I used to be so afraid of heights," she said quietly. Bellamy could just hear her over the wind. "Every year, my dad would try and get me to stand by the edge, but I never did. He'd tell me that if you don't take the risk of falling, you miss a great view. And it is a great view. But I wonder what he'd think of me now."

Bellamy took another step towards her and then took a step back again. "Madi is worried about you. Everyone is. You've been gone for a week, Clarke. What the hell happened?"

When she spoke again, Bellamy realized that she was crying. "I can't eat. I can't sleep. I keep lying to everyone and I don't know why. About little things, about big things, about…" She trailed off. "I feel like someone's watching me all the time and I miss you and I wish you had just let me die."

Bellamy took a sharp intake of breath. The whole time he'd been imagining Clarke, how she was doing, what their reunion would be like, he had never imagined those words coming out of her mouth. "Don't say that. Don't - why would you…?" He didn't know how to say it, but she understood what he was asking.

"Because it made sense. Because… that way, I wouldn't have had to lose you."

"You didn't lose me," he said without even thinking about it, and there was that bitter laugh again.

"Yeah? Then where have you been the past five months?" she said. He didn't have a good answer to that and they both knew it. "All I know is one minute you were telling me you love me, and the next time I opened my eyes, you were walking out of my life."

"It's just…" His eyes were stinging with tears of his own. "He was shot in the back of the head, Clarke," and there it was, he had finally said it, finally vocalized the image that haunted him every fucking night. Sometimes his nightmares were about losing her. And sometimes they were about watching her pull the trigger.

But what she said next surprised him. "And I'd do it again. That's the truth. Do you really think the police in Arkadia could have protected Madi? You know Roan. And you know the cops there. She couldn't trade information, she couldn't find the drugs for them. She'd have been dead in a month."

Bellamy listened, really listened, really tried to understand. And he did understand. But he had to be honest now. He had to say what had hurt him the most. "You were using me the whole time to get to Cage."

She sighed. "Yeah, I was."

"How can we go back to before then?"

"I don't know," she said tearfully. "I wish I knew."

Suddenly, she felt so far away. "Clarke, can you please just - just come here and talk to me?"

But it was like she couldn't hear him. "You have to understand, I thought I was just hiring you. You were just a name in pencil on a post-it note Raven handed to me. I didn't know what you'd mean to me."

Bellamy supposed that was fair. She'd only been his client when it all started. "I didn't either."

"But the truth is, when you met me, I had already killed someone."

He let that sink in. That he'd never known any other Clarke. He had only ever known her as a killer. (But she wasn't just that, his heart cried. She had always, always, always been more. Whether she knew it or not.)

"Bellamy?"

"I'm here."

"If you're going to leave again, please just do it now. While I can't see you." She didn't say this unkindly. And he knew what she was doing. She was giving him a choice, and she was saying it was okay if he didn't choose her.

For a moment, he almost contemplated walking away. But any hesitation vanished the second he thought about never seeing her again. He'd only just started breathing for the first time in five months. He wasn't letting go, not now. Not again. "I'm not leaving. I told Madi I would find you. And I don't like to leave a case unclosed."

Clarke laughed, and for the first time, there was a slight trace of happiness in the sound. "I've noticed."

As Bellamy walked towards her, he knew that maybe he was going to let her destroy him. He also knew that he'd rather be destroyed by her than saved by anyone else. And when he touched her shoulder, oh god, it was like fire in his veins. She turned to look at him, those pretty blue eyes red-rimmed, a new scar on her cheek that Bellamy fought the urge to trace.

He helped her to her feet, and though he wanted to hug her, he settled for leaving his hand on her elbow. For a long moment, he and Clarke just stared at each other, taking each other in, finally realizing that the other was really there, that this wasn't just another dream they were going to wake up from.

And then, with a deep breath, Clarke said, "So what happens now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good luck tonight everyone and i'll see you on the other side. find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin
> 
> (also i can't tell u how hard it was not to put in the line from double indemnity "i didn't know something like that could happen to me" when clarke was talking about falling for bellamy)


	12. Out of the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke try again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay a few things. i am SO sorry that it has taken me so long to update, after the finale i was hit with crippling writer's block and a shit ton of midterms and it took a billion years to get them out. i truly don't know how i feel about this, but i hope it gives you the closure you want. i will say, it's the longest chapter in this fic, so hopefully that counts for something :)
> 
> also i am about to start on a new series of s7 fix-it fics! i have eleven planned, they'll probably be in the same fic as standalone chapters, and if you have any s7 aus that ur dying to see, feel free to let me know in the comments.
> 
> i just want to say a BIG thank you to anyone who commented and left kudos, it totally kept me going. i love u guys, i love this fic, i love bellarke and im so glad you took this ride with me <3

In Bellamy's dream, she never turned back to him. In Bellamy's dream, she whispered that he should have just let her die and then she stepped off the cliff. In Bellamy's dream, he didn't hesitate before jumping after her, following her all the way down into darkness, into hell, wherever it was she was going.

He woke up before he hit the ground, panting and scared. But the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Clarke's sleeping face. Her head was laid gently on the pillow. A beam of sunlight was shining right on her eyes, and Bellamy was surprised she hadn't woken up yet. But she looked so beautiful, and she didn't look sad. In fact, she was almost smiling.

This time three days ago, he hadn't allowed himself to harbor any hope that he would ever see Clarke again. He had even fooled himself into believing that he had moved on, that he had wanted to move on. Bellamy felt sorry for that man, who now seemed almost like a stranger. Because watching Clarke Griffin sleep was nothing short of a miracle. How funny to think that he had almost lived a life without bearing witness to it.

Even his nightmare was softer because they were together. There were no guns, there was no blood, and he almost remembered reaching for her hand on the way down. And it didn't hurt as much, dreaming about losing her, when she was the first thing he saw in the morning. He wanted this every morning.

But there was still a lot to talk about. Maybe that wasn't what she wanted. And he still didn't know what was real and what was fake, how much of the time she loved him, and how much of the time she was stringing him along. And if there was overlap, did that weaken the love? Or was love something different, something impervious to betrayal?

Forgiveness. That was a word they were going to have to learn to use. Clarke blinked her eyes open, softly and slowly. She smiled, just a little bit, just with the corners of her mouth, when she caught his gaze. It was like he'd been in darkness these past five months, and someone had just opened the blinds.

It wasn't a wide open window, it wasn't open-aired sunshine. It was just a slice of light through too much shade. But it was enough to sustain him. Waking up to Clarke this morning was enough to make even their bad days look beautiful, every horrible thing they did to each other, every lie they told, every text ignored, every moment of painful silence, seem shining in its own tragic way.

He knew that things might feel different when their feet were on the ground. Any moment, it would all come rushing back and things would get very hard again. But for the first time, Bellamy started to hope that there was a way out of the dark for good this time.

For the first time, he thought that maybe he wouldn't have to make that journey alone.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Not long after that golden morning smile, Bellamy drifted back off to sleep. When he awoke again, Clarke wasn't there. For the first time, that didn't send panic rushing through his body. He'd called Madi last night, while Clarke was getting the bed ready, who hadn't even questioned whether or not one of them would take the couch which Bellamy took that as a good sign. He told Madi that he'd found Clarke, that she was alright, that they were going to stay in Alpha for a little while, but he didn't know how long. Then he called Murphy and said the same thing, except as soon as he said "I found her, she's fine," Murphy hung up.

He was happy to be staying in Clarke's family cottage with her. He knew this place had represented loss to her for a very long time. Maybe this would be the start of some happy memories - for both of them. Waking up to her smile felt natural, like he'd done it a million times before, like they had nothing to worry about anymore.

But he felt out of place walking into her kitchen, especially when he noticed her back to him. She was washing dishes, almost mechanically. All the vulnerability and tenderness he had seen the day before had all but vanished. He hadn't even gotten a good look at her face, but suddenly she felt impenetrable, like he could take her in his arms and never reach her. He had never been able to read a person this well, not even Octavia. Truth be told, it scared him. The way he knew her, the way she didn't want him to. She'd spent months lying to him. Maybe it was a hard habit to break.

All these thoughts swirled around in his head, but the only thing to come out of his mouth was, "Good morning."

Clarke looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments. "Hey." She turned off the water, but she didn't face him right away. When she did, her face was impassive. "Yesterday was intense. For both of us."

Bellamy nodded, unsure where she was going with this.

"But I don't want you to worry." There was a silence. Clarke grabbed the dish again, started wiping it down as if the conversation was over. But she must have sensed Bellamy's confusion because when she looked up, she clarified what she was actually trying to tell him. "If you want to leave, I'll be okay."

Bellamy blinked, thrown by that. Just yesterday, she made it clear she hadn't wanted him to go. He could still hear her tearful voice telling him she missed him all the time. "What do you want?" he asked.

She looked away, setting the dish down and leaning against the counter. The first traces of anguish appeared on her face. "I want you to do whatever is best for you," she said frankly.

"That's not really what I asked." But he believed that she was telling the truth.

"Look, yesterday… I had a bad day. I'm sure you've had your fair share of those over the past few months." Now it was Bellamy's turn to look away. Yes. He had. He wouldn't want to be judged by them either, but he had a feeling Clarke was lying to him again. "But today, I'm fine. So you can go home."

"What about you? Will you go home?"

"Look, Bellamy -"

"Madi is worried about you." So is Raven, he thought. And Murphy. And me.

"Madi is safe," she said, eyes flashing, emotion sneaking into her voice. "I made sure of that. And she is better off without me. And that's the only person I owe anything to anymore. Everyone else is gone… because they figured it out sooner. So that's why I came here. That's why I'm not going back."

He had questions he would ask her, things he could say, if she was anyone else, if he loved her less, if he wasn't so tightly bound to her. But the only thing he could think of to say was her name, quietly, imploringly. And maybe that could do a better job at changing her mind anyway. "Clarke…"

"I'm not, I just -" She shook her head, pulling herself together again. It was clear this conversation wasn't going as she'd planned it. "None of the things I said yesterday change your reasons for leaving. I lied to you the whole time I knew you. I killed three people. And I used you to help me do it. None of that has changed." Maybe she thought saying this, laying all the horrible betrayals of their friendship out in front of him, would be enough to push him away.

At another time, it might have been. Not this morning. "You gave me an out yesterday. I didn't take it."

"Does that mean you never will?" she said quietly, and Bellamy wasn't expecting that question. "Can you promise me that you're not going to leave again?"

He took a deep breath, thinking about that. He owed it to her to give her a real answer, not just whatever he thought would make her feel better. "No. I can't."

Clarke's eyes were shiny when she looked at him again. "I don't know if I can do this again with you, Bellamy. Everything's so dark. All the time. I thought seeing you again would make things brighter, and maybe it did, for a second." He wondered if she was thinking about this morning. Because it was true that things felt a lot harder looking at her here in the kitchen than it had seemed waking up to her early-morning smile. "But they aren't brighter. They're blurrier, but they're not brighter. And it's dark for you too, isn't it? Now that you're looking at me again? Now that you have to relive it?"

Bellamy looked down, his eyes stinging. Before Madi had called him, he had almost turned the corner. And now he was back in this mess, and even though the deepest part of him wanted to be in it with her, life without her was easier than life with her was. And what killed him most was that that hadn't always been true. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"So that's where we are. Because I'm always reliving it whether you're here or not, but you have a chance to move past this. And you knew that. And that's why you left."

"Don't do this, Clarke. Don't do this to yourself." Don't do it to me, he wanted to add.

"We have the smallest possibility that you could make things easier for me, but we know that I make things worse for you." She took a deep breath. "So I think you should go home."

He had to admit. She made a good case. But of course she did, she was Clarke. She was great at using her head, at figuring out how to protect the people she loved, whether that involved her happiness or not. She knew all the reasons this wouldn't work, and she knew how to get to Bellamy. But maybe she'd spent too long without him. Because it seemed like she forgot that Bellamy didn't always listen to his head. "What if I don't want to?"

"Bellamy…"

"I don't have any good answers. And I don't have any good excuses. But I want to try. I want to try again. I don't know if it will work, but… You didn't ask me what I wanted. That's what I want."

A few tears spilled over onto Clarke's cheeks. Bellamy wiped them away with his thumb. "I'm so afraid of loving you again," she said softly. "It almost killed me the first time."

Bellamy clenched his jaw. "I know. You should never have taken that bullet."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

He looked into her eyes. Really looked. And he was hit with that moment of connection that had vanished between them, the same connection that surprised him when he first met her. This was the Clarke he fell in love with, the Clarke who split lasagna with him, he patched his stab wound, who listened when he spoke, who drew him and couldn't get his freckles right. She was right here in front of him. "Do you want to try again?" he whispered.

"I don't know. I think I might be bad at it."

"You might have lied to me, Clarke. But when I went into that warehouse to save you, I had already solved the case."

She shook her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I knew it was you who had killed Emerson and Lovejoy."

"What?"

"So we did that together. You killed Cage. But I killed Tsing. That night belongs to both of us. You don't have to do this alone."

There was a long silence, where they just looked at each other. Bellamy was convinced that she was going to shake her head and send him away. But finally, she nodded, and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding just as she wrapped herself in his arms.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

For the first time since knowing her, Bellamy spent a quiet day with Clarke. They would have to talk about everything at some point. It would have to come up eventually. But right now, there was no talk of drugs or guns or threats or shadows. They were safe from everything except for their own nightmares, and Bellamy's had momentarily gone quiet. He was starting to wonder why he spent so much time running from Clarke, from their twisted past, why he was so afraid of it. Being here with Clarke felt more like healing than anything he'd done over the past five months.

Clarke showed him the cottage's small library and Bellamy picked out an old favorite. She sat across from him all day, her feet in his lap, drawing in her sketchpad as he read until the sun went down. They didn't have to say anything to each other. And Bellamy wondered, was this what life with Clarke could be like? If they just never talked about that night, about what had happened, then maybe they could have this. Maybe it could be untainted. Maybe it could belong to them.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

And then nightfall came. Clarke's face was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep. She was the first face he saw when the nightmare started too. Just like last night, they were beside the cliff again. But she was facing him as she fell backwards. And Bellamy could swear he saw her smile just before -

He went plummeting down afterwards, reaching for her hand, but she was just out of reach, the whole time, just out of reach and there was nothing he could do but watch. The only difference was this time, he hit the ground. And he could feel it, painful, rough, and devastatingly final. He knew she must have hit the ground before him, but when he reached for her, he couldn't find her. "Clarke!" he yelled out, but he was only met by silence.

And the cocking of a gun. He got to his feet just as he watched Clarke, broken and bloody standing over some anonymous form, pull the trigger. She lifted her gaze, looking him dead in the eyes. "I had to. You know that, right?"

He opened his mouth to respond, without knowing what words the dream would pull out of his lips, when another shot rang out, from no direction in particular and Clarke fell. Her eyes flashed up at him. Her blood was everywhere. It was nighttime, the moon was full and high and they were at the bottom of a cliff. But there was an overwhelming fishy smell surrounding him. Only this time, it was rotten fish. And Clarke's hand was reaching towards him. "Bellamy," she said, fading. "Don't go."

I won't, he wanted to say. But his mouth was glued shut. And his feet were moving in the opposite direction.

"Don't leave me. I took that bullet for you. Bellamy!" But as he was walking away, the moon was sinking and the sun was rising and it seemed like the right thing to do. But, he suddenly realized, it wasn't the sun. It was fire. The woods were on fire and the light was swallowing her and somehow, Bellamy had found his way towards another cliff, but he stumbled at the edge.

"I'm not going to fall," he said out loud. "I made promises. It doesn't matter what I want, I'm not going to do it." So he was at the top of the cliff and she was at the bottom and he was walking away and she was burning and bleeding and dying for him, and he knew it.

When he woke up, he was gasping, sitting bolt upright in bed. He couldn't tell if it was sweat rolling down his face or tears, but he was embarrassed by both. "Bellamy?" Clarke said blearily. Her hand reached for him, but on instinct he recoiled, jerking his body away. There was a long, drawn out silence. He was halfway out of bed and she was looking down, ashamed, sad, guilty? Bellamy didn't know. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but he didn't trust himself to speak. "It's okay," she whispered. "I get them too."

He looked at her once more, just to replace the image of her burning with the image of her in front of him now. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The town looked different in the dark. The shadows held more secrets, the dark storefronts seemed as sinister as that warehouse, the silence was stifling, not peaceful. Bellamy was starting to get over the idea that he and Clarke were the only ones here with secrets. Maybe everyone was hiding something horrible, something stifling. Maybe everyone had so very much to lose.

Or maybe you only felt like that once you had crossed that line. Funny how little lines matter. Funny how many times he thought he'd drawn it.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy came back as the sun came up. Clarke was in the shower. He brewed a pot of coffee and waited quietly in the kitchen, wondering what he could possibly say to soothe all the concerns she'd brought up yesterday. It had felt so easy the day before. But all it took was one bad dream to send him spiraling down. When one of them was doing well, it was easier to get through. But if they were both spiraling, who was to say they wouldn't drag each other all the way to the bottom?

This was why he had left. This was what he was trying to forget. But he tried not to think about that as he waited. Maybe if he took things one day at a time, it would be alright. Ten minutes after he returned to the cottage, Clarke emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and looking so lovely and sad. "I didn't think you were coming back," she said quietly. Bellamy didn't have an answer for that. Clarke didn't seem to need one. "There's something I want to show you."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

They made the walk in relative silence. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but Bellamy didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. Sorry? We need to talk? Let's forget everything that happened? Screw everything else, let's just go? All of these seemed suitable. But he was letting her take the lead. She was always better at that anyway.

It was only a ten minute walk and Bellamy felt pleased to at least be walking somewhere so beautiful. It was lovely in Alpha. It would have been nice to have been the kind of kid who got to go on vacations. He could picture him and O, young and laughing, free of the burdens that would plague them for years. When had he gone from the kind of person who could stomach his life to the kind of person haunted by useless wishes?

But then he looked at Clarke. And he knew. When he'd met the kind of person who showed him what his life could be. It was like sleepwalking for years and years. He loved Octavia, and he loved his friends, and it wasn't a bad life, really, it wasn't. But everything he was doing was for his sister. He'd do it again and again, he'd do it a million times over, but that was all that his life was. That was it. When he met Clarke, for the first time, he thought he might be able to have something just for himself, just because he wanted it, because he thought it might make him happy. It was like waking up. No matter how this ended now, he wasn't going back to sleep.

So he owed Clarke a lot. In some ways, he owed her everything.

(And perhaps, that wasn't true. Perhaps that was only how he felt. But it was either too early or too late to call that feeling exactly what it was, which was love so strong it swallowed him.)

Clarke led him to a grassy field, thick with trees and flowers and long blades of grass, easy to get lost in. But she didn't stop there. They made their way through the field, and he didn't have to ask where she was taking him, because at least for now, he trusted her. There was this archway, formed by low-hanging trees. Clarke looked back at him once, a glimmer in her eye that made the whole day suddenly much better, and then she ducked under it.

She'd brought him to a creek. But that wasn't a sufficient enough word to express how beautiful it was. The water was a clear, bright blue. The sun was poking through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting scattered rays of golden light everywhere, making the water sparkle. It was secluded, quiet. He could hear birds chirping and cicadas humming, the water rushing gently back and forth. It was small, but it looked deep. Deep enough to go up to his chest at least. A wave of tranquility washed over him.

In his periphery, he watched as Clarke pulled her shirt over her head. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice cracking in spite of himself.

Clarke's smile was cheeky and subtle all at once. "Getting in."

She didn't ask if he was going to join her, but she didn't have to. Within moments, they were together in the creek. Never had Bellamy had this with Clarke, had so much of his skin on so much of hers. There were chills all the way down his back, and not just because the water was cold. But Clarke swam a little bit away from him. He was surprised when she started to float. It wasn't the act that stunned him, but how natural it seemed to come to her. It was as if there was something buoyant within her. And it had been a while since he'd seen her look this free, if he ever had.

"What is this place?" he asked, floating beside her. Somehow, it was easier to talk if he didn't look right at her, if instead he was faced with the wide open blue sky. Her voice seemed to trickle down from the clouds.

"I came here my first day back in Alpha. As far as I know, I'm the only one who knows about it."

"Really?"

"I've never seen anyone else here. Wells and I found it our second summer together. And now it's just mine."

Bellamy felt a small blush creep up his neck. She had shown him. This was something that only belonged to her and she had chosen to share it with him. His dream from this morning felt further and further away as he felt lighter and lighter. It only took one question from Clarke to bring him crashing back down.

"Do you get dreams like that a lot?"

"Sometimes," he said, instead of the truth, which was "almost every night."

Clarke was quiet for a moment. "What was it like for you? After?"

Bellamy didn't look at her. His eyes remained steadily on the sky, wide, blue, free of limitations and full of possibilities. He focused on that. But he knew he had to tell her, for the sake of both of them. "It was like I could always hear you," he said. "Like your voice was always there no matter how hard I tried to drown it out. And I did try."

"I know the feeling," Clarke said, and Bellamy's silence was a question that she was slow to answer. "I kept thinking I could hear you calling my name. Then I'd turn the corner and you wouldn't be there."

Bellamy's hand swished in the water, searching for hers. When he found it, he linked their pinkies together. That was the closest he could bear being to her if he was going to get through this, but he needed some connection, something to ground him.

"Sometimes," Clarke said, and she sounded nervous, "I would talk to you." She paused. "Every day, actually. I knew you couldn't hear me but… it kept me sane. Imagining what you would say. Imagining that you wanted to hear from me. That was the only way I got through the past five months." For a fleeting moment, Bellamy wished he could have heard those conversations. But he didn't dwell on that thought for too long. He just listened. "But that's not the after I'm talking about."

Bellamy was confused for a minute, but then he realized. "You mean when you were in the hospital?"

"What… what was it like?"

Words seemed to fail him, but he knew he had to answer her question. He let his eyes focus on following a cloud passing across the sky while his mind went somewhere it did not want to go. "I was at the hospital almost every day. I sat with Madi, I checked up on her, I drove her home. Made sure she ate. Made sure she was okay. I thought that was what you would have wanted me to do. She was worried. All your friends were."

Her pinkie squeezed tighter around his as if she was saying thank you. But then she said, "I meant what was it like for you?"

For him. He had spent that entire two weeks trying not to think about himself. "It was… The first few days I tried to convince myself that… that you were going to die. Like that would make it easier somehow if it actually happened. Like I could prepare myself. But after a while, I stopped thinking about the future. I stopped thinking about the next day, or the next hour, or the next minute. I stopped thinking about what I was doing. It was…" Bellamy cleared his throat. "It was hard. I haven't thought about that in a long time," he finished quietly. And it was true. Aside from that first horrible night, those days in limbo were part of a past he was trying to repress. "What was it like for you?" he asked, feeling the need to listen just so he could be silent for a while.

The water sloshed pleasantly around his ankles. It was a slight effort to float for this long. It was good to have something to concentrate on. "For me?" Clarke asked. "It wasn't like anything."

"What, no white light?" he said, and felt pleased when she laughed.

"It was like blinking. One minute, I was in the warehouse with you and then the next I was alone in a hospital room wondering where you were."

"Madi was there, though. Wasn't she?"

Clarke was quiet for just a beat too long. "Yeah." Bellamy wondered if that meant she was lying, or something heavier. But he didn't ask. "I guess I could tell time passed because everything hurt more. But I thought it had been hours, not weeks. Look, Bellamy. I don't blame you for leaving."

Suddenly he could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn't look at her. All he could say was, "Clarke, let's not do this."

"Please, Bellamy." He sighed, but he let her go on. "If I'd had two weeks to think about it, I would have come to the same conclusion. You did the right thing. But it was hours for me, between the last two times I saw you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said softly. "I think so."

"Hours before you walked in with Miller, the last thing I saw was you, telling me…" Telling her he loved her. She didn't have to remind him. He remembered it well. "Do you remember the day you found me on the floor? With the ransom note?" His stomach dropped at the thought. He could only remember one other time he had been that afraid. "I think that was when I knew."

"Knew what?"

"How it had to end. But it was killing Emerson that made me sure." Bellamy flinched at how simply the words came to her lips. But if they were going to try again, he was going to have to confront it. All of it. "I couldn't imagine what my life after it was over would look like. And you kept talking about the future, and all I could see was… this big, empty nothingness. And I realized that maybe dying would be the price I had to pay. My penance for everything I had done. And for a second, I was scared, but mostly I was… relieved. Because it felt right."

Her words from days before - because it would have made sense - echoed in his head. "It would never have been right, Clarke. Never."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Well, that was when you showed up. In the warehouse. Almost killed the entire plan."

"You were tied up. What could you have done?"

"When I saw you? Whatever it took to keep you safe. I was ready for whatever Cage and Tsing wanted to do to me. And I was still trying to figure out how to stop them from hurting Madi. But I never wanted to drag you into that mess. You were good. You didn't ask for any of this."

"Don't paint me so kindly, princess. I knew you were the killer when I followed you."

"I didn't know that then, did I? And when Cage pointed the gun at you… I couldn't let you die."

"But you almost did."

"I would do it again and you know that, so don't bother."

It was Bellamy's turn to chuckle. She had a point. They both knew the lengths they were willing to go for each other now. "What was it like? Dying?"

"It hurt," she said bluntly. "And… I was scared." Her voice started to sound emotional and Bellamy wondered if she was crying. "But I was in your arms," she whispered. "And you were telling me you loved me. And I suddenly realized that that was the best I could possibly ask for. That was the happiest ending I could get." Bellamy took a deep breath. He couldn't understand how she ever could have thought that. But if their places were switched, then maybe… "I almost let go. It would have been so easy. So much easier than everything that came after."

"But you didn't let go?"

"No." Clarke slid her whole hand over his, holding on tightly.

"What stopped you?"

He felt her looking at him. Her eyes were full of love when she softly whispered, "What else?" as if nothing more needed to be said.

(But days later, she would tell him. At two in the morning, when neither could sleep, Clarke would describe the look on his face as she was bleeding out through his hands. Desperate, terrified, but stubborn too. That wasn't how she wanted to leave him, but that wasn't what stopped her. She realized that it didn't matter if she was ready to die. He wouldn't let her. And he didn't.

It would take much longer for her to admit to a deeper, more selfish truth. Before she met him, she was okay with what was waiting for her. It wasn't until meeting him that she wanted more. The future he kept on talking about, the one where nothing was holding them back and no one was breathing down their necks. The one where they could be together and they could be happy.

Yes, as the world faded to black, Clarke Griffin did not want to die for one simple reason: she wanted more time with Bellamy Blake.)

"I'm glad you're here, Bellamy," she whispered softly.

Finally, he looked at her. Her hair would smell like lake water, even after a shower, but her eyes had never looked so blue. "I'm glad I'm here too."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The days were long, the sun setting around eight every night. Clarke and Bellamy returned to the lake a few times, but things were getting harder and easier at the same time. It was nearly a week that they'd been here, and they couldn't ignore the future for much longer. He had Octavia to think about. She had Madi. They couldn't stay here forever. But he didn't want to say that. This was fragile. It could break. It could fall apart. He wasn't going to be the one to set that in motion.

He still remembered that day in the hospital, the day he left. He had looked at her, knowing he was about to leave her, and for a fleeting moment, he had tried to commit her face to memory. But he gave up. It was pointless anyway. He knew then, as he knew now, that the hard part wouldn't be remembering Clarke. It would be trying to forget her.

He had failed at that as he had failed at so many other things. He just didn't want to fail again, he wanted to make it out of the woods with her. But what she had said to him. About what the future had once looked like to her - blank, nothing, empty. When Bellamy was imagining life with Clarke, that was all he could see.

There was so much he understood now, so much he hadn't realized before. It was like he'd finally found all the missing pieces, gotten all the closure he'd needed to get. Faced the things he wasn't ready to face. But now he was faced with something else, and like always, Clarke had figured it out before he did.

It was one week since he'd found her again that she stopped him in the kitchen. Late the night before, when he thought Clarke was sleeping, he had spoken with Octavia on the phone. She still didn't even know Clarke's name. There was so much he would never be able to tell her, and it was an unfamiliar feeling, and an unpleasant one. Because Octavia used to be the only important thing in his life, and there was nothing about him that she didn't know back then. Now, he could barely keep track of all the secrets he was keeping from her. "Where are you, Bell? Why can't you tell me?" she had said.

"It's complicated. But I'll be home soon."

"Oh yeah? When?"

"I… don't know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you've been saying that a lot lately," Octavia said, angry, hanging up.

He didn't think Clarke could hear him, but when he slid back in bed, she slipped her arm around him, pulling him closer than she usually dared to. And there was something so sad, and so final about it. It wasn't hard, knowing what Clarke was thinking. Not anymore. And if she'd heard him on the phone, then he could try and fool himself all he wanted, but he knew what was coming the next morning.

So he got up early, sat at the kitchen table and watched the sunrise, sipping black coffee from one of Clarke's old mugs. There would always exist so much inside him, and he knew that some days would be harder than others. He knew that his life might never be easy. But maybe it was fuller now. Darker, yes, harder, maybe. Worse? He didn't know yet. But there was more than he ever thought there would be.

And for the first time, he forced himself to think clearly about the future. What did he want? What did he need? How could he minimize the collateral damage? How could he protect his heart without breaking it? He heard Clarke come in. She made her tea in silence, the old fashioned kettle whistling. Bellamy felt serene. He felt calm. He felt like he could handle whatever conversation was coming his way. She settled into place beside him. The sky outside the window was a light orange, with clouds scattered across the horizon. Such a beautiful place. He told her he was glad he had come here, and that had not changed.

"I know what you're thinking," Clarke said, sipping her tea. Her voice sounded calm too. She sounded okay.

"Enlighten me, then."

"You're thinking it's time to go home."

Bellamy was quiet for a moment. "How did you know?"

"Because I'm thinking it too."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, listening to each other's breathing. Glancing at each other through the corners of their eyes. They were alive, they were breathing, and they were together. There was something hopeful in that thought alone.

"This week with you, Bellamy, it's been…"

"It has," he said.

"I thought all the good things in my life had already happened to me," she said quietly, and that was almost tender enough to bring tears to Bellamy's eyes. But they remained dry and he remained peaceful. He knew she wasn't finished yet. "But when I think about going back, being in the middle of everything, it gets all twisted again."

He knew how she felt. The things he had done for her, the people he had hurt for her. He wasn't thinking of Tsing. He was thinking of Miller, who had left the force and lost Bellamy's number. He was thinking of Octavia who was sitting in Niylah's apartment wondering what the hell happened to take her brother away, and not just this week. Being alone with Clarke was one thing; trying to make their lives fit together would be another thing entirely, and truthfully, Bellamy didn't know if he'd be able to handle it. It was all so tangled, the good and the bad, and he needed to put some things in order before he could have what he really wanted, which was a life with Clarke. If he could ever have it.

And he knew the same was true for her too. He hadn't been doing well the past five months, he'd been dealing with it in all the wrong ways. But now that he knew she was okay, he thought that maybe he could be too. So, even though he didn't want to say it, he knew it had to be him and not her who said, "So maybe this ends here."

Clarke nodded. There was no happiness in saying that, but the sadness wasn't as heavy as it could have been. For the first time since that awful night, Bellamy finally felt like they were both on the right track.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

They rode the bus to Arkadia together. She fell asleep on his shoulder, and he cherished the feeling, the closeness of her touch, the smell of her shampoo. He didn't want to face Octavia just as he knew Clarke didn't want to face Madi. But he felt like maybe now he could do it. Staying with Clarke in Alpha forever had been a fleeting dream, an impractical one, but one he would always hold close to his heart.

But they still had chains around their ankles, and they were still sinking. They couldn't hold each other up, not yet. And they would only hurt each other more by trying.

The bus let them off in the city. Clarke would walk home, and Bellamy would hop on the train. They would say goodbye. Still, they lingered outside the bus doors, watching it drive away, watching it disappear in the distance, waiting until the last possible moment to leave each other. Clarke laughed, a sad, bittersweet sound. "Well, we tried, didn't we?"

Bellamy smiled. "Damn right we did." He leaned in to kiss her, just the smallest peck at the corner of her lips. It wasn't even close to what he'd wanted to do, but it was enough for now. He pulled away, but her hand was still in his, resting lightly at the top of his fingertips.

"Don't be a stranger," she whispered.

"I won't. I promise."

And this time, he let her walk away first.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy didn't go home right away. He had a stop to make still, and it would be hard, but he was finally ready. He went to Niylah's. When Octavia saw him, her eyes lit up, but her mouth remained set in a hard line. She wasn't going to make this easy. "So you finally showed up."

"Good to see you too, O," he said. She half-smiled, but it was fleeting and it disappeared within a moment. "Did you thank Niylah's parents?"

"Yeah. You gonna tell me where you went?"

"You want to get some ice cream?"

"I'm eighteen," she said, and Bellamy was struck by the weight of that. She was the same age that he was when their mom died and he had to start taking care of her. Maybe she could handle more than he thought. "You really think that'll still work on me?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

But twenty minutes later, they were in their usual booth at their usual place, with soft serve that towered precariously over its cone. It would take Octavia at least ten minutes to finish. If he told the story right, that should be enough time. "There are things I can't ever tell you. I hope you know that I never wanted that, but that's how it is now."

"Bellamy, you can trust me," Octavia said.

"I know. I know that, Octavia." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you everything I can. I don't want you to interrupt, I don't want you to say anything, I just want you to listen. When I'm done, you can ask questions. I won't lie to you, but I can't promise that I'll answer them all. Okay?"

He was trying to sound strong, sturdy, decisive. Like the big brother he had always been. But Octavia must have sensed that this was hard for him, she must have heard his voice shake, just a little. She must have known him too well. She reached for his hand, her eyes suddenly soft and kind. "Okay, big brother," she said. "Whenever you're ready."

Bellamy swallowed. His mouth felt dry and his throat felt thick, but he was ready. "It started seven months ago at a coffee shop in Polis. I met a girl there named Clarke. And I loved her very much."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

From then on, life for Bellamy was not the same as it was before he'd met Clarke, but that was okay. His relationship with Octavia had changed and his relationship with his job had changed. So had his relationship with love. In some ways, those relationships were stronger. They hadn't just changed, they had evolved. But there was a beauty in the former simplicity that was gone forever, and he was just going to have to deal with that.

After that night in the warehouse, he had tried to make his post-Clarke life resemble his pre-Clarke life. When he stopped trying to do that, things were easier. His life had been irreparably, irrevocably changed by Clarke Griffin and all the time he spent with her. He couldn't wipe that away. He couldn't shake it off. And he didn't want to anymore.

Bellamy didn't hear from Clarke for a couple weeks but he knew she was okay. He knew she went back to work, he knew that she had stopped drinking so much, and he knew that, in general, she was out there. And he hoped she knew the same about him.

He didn't know when they'd meet again, if they would. He missed her, and it was the kind of longing that felt like a constant ache in his chest. But he no longer wondered if she missed him too. He didn't wonder if she'd ever cared. He knew the answers to the questions that used to torment him, and they were the answers he'd never dared to hope for. If he never saw Clarke again, that would have to be enough for him.

(But when he gently pries a pretty woman named Echo's fingers off of his arm at a random bar in Polis two weeks after leaving Alpha, a woman who at any other time in his life would have been exactly his type, it is because he knows, in his heart of hearts, that their story is not yet over.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Three weeks, almost to the day, after he and Clarke had parted ways at the bus stop, Bellamy finished a big case in triumph. Everything felt electric and exciting, like he could do anything he felt like and it would go right. His mind briefly flashed to Clarke. Whenever something good happened in his life, she and Octavia were the first people he wanted to tell. But instead of breaking their silence and calling her, Bellamy figured out another way to celebrate. His life had changed, but some things stayed the same. He brought out an age-old tradition, how he always used to celebrate big cases: ice cream with Octavia and drinks at Camp Jaha.

It was nice to spend a day with his sister, especially now that there were no more secrets between them. She knew everything he was able to tell her, and she understood that there were things she would never know. That didn't mean she liked it, and that didn't mean she wasn't trying to give him relationship advice every five minutes, but for the first time in months, Bellamy felt like he was really there, in the middle of his life, eyes wide open, heart on his sleeve where it belonged.

It was a good day. But it was about to get better. Bellamy walked into Camp Jaha alone, a thin grey t-shirt on and a grin on his face. He was ready to tell a begrudging Murphy all the gritty details of his case and his triumph. He saw Murphy's face behind the bar first, eyebrows raised in surprise. He also looked vaguely amused to see Bellamy, in a way that Bellamy couldn't quite place straight away. Then someone joyfully called his name.

"Blake! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Bellamy followed the sound to a very familiar figure sitting at her usual place in the bar. Raven Reyes' eyes were dancing, the corners of her lips were turned up in a gentle smile and it was clear she was happy to see him. But Bellamy wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the woman sitting next to his friend, the woman he'd spent the past three weeks thinking about, the last thing on his mind when he fell asleep, and the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

Clarke didn't look away when she saw him. She didn't frown. She didn't look scared or tired or hidden away. She was sitting at the bar with two of her closest friends, and she was shining. The moment her eyes locked with Bellamy's, there was so much conveyed between the two, even from across the room. But the message was clear: when she saw that Bellamy had walked through the door, Clarke Griffin's face broke out into the most beautiful grin.

And like everything in the world settling into its rightful place, Bellamy finally realized that they were going to be okay.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Okay," Raven said, slurring her words a little bit. "What's your favorite case you've ever taken? Besides mine, of course."

Bellamy laughed, but Murphy leaned against the counter, interested. Clarke merely swirled the ice in her drink around with a straw, her face content, but reserved. "Missing person case," Bellamy said, without hesitation.

There was brief silence, before Raven elbowed him. "And?"

"It only took a couple days to find them." He looked up, locking eyes with Clarke. Her face told him that she already knew what he was talking about. "Took a whole week to get them to come home."

"How come?" Raven asked, interested.

Bellamy grinned, tearing his gaze away from Clarke. "I'm afraid that's confidential."

"Tease," Raven said, but she was laughing too. "That was the most boring story I've ever heard."

Oh, Raven, Bellamy thought. If only you knew. Clarke's laugh was quiet but he could hear it and he was buzzed and happy and she was too far away. So he made his way two seats down and grabbed her hand. She raised her eyebrows in question, and he responded by tugging on it. Follow me, the tug said.

Anywhere, she tugged back.

"Hey!" Murphy called after them. "Where you taking our girl?"

But they both ignored him.

She followed him to the corner, where Raven had tucked him away to yell at him the last time they were both here, and for the first time tonight, wariness appeared on her face. Bellamy wanted to tell her she had nothing to be afraid of. "It's really good to see you, Clarke," he said, softly.

Clarke smiled without teeth, but her eyes were happy. "It's good to see you, too." He opened his mouth to respond, but the thought got caught in his throat. He couldn't look away from her. "Raven dragged me out for drinks after work. First night out in a while."

"Hope she didn't yell at you too much."

"No, she's been… really great."

"I wasn't so lucky."

Clarke laughed. "Well, you know Raven."

Another silence. Bellamy stepped closer to Clarke, slipping his hand back into hers. She didn't step back and she didn't pull away but her face fell. "Bellamy," she whispered.

"Clarke," he whispered back.

"What are you doing?"

Bellamy took a breath, shaking his head. "I missed you," he said.

Her eyes filled with emotion, and not the one he expected. Fear. "Bellamy, I know how this ends."

But Bellamy wasn't scared, not in the same way. His heart was pounding, and he felt almost light-headed with exhilaration and relief, but he wasn't afraid that they would destroy each other, that they would leave each other behind. He leaned in closer, until he could feel her breath against him. "No, Clarke," he said softly. "No, you don't."

She only had time to take in a sharp, little breath before his lips were on hers, and it was better, so much better than the last kiss they'd had the day she had fired him, because that was goodbye. This was everything else. This was the beginning of all the lives they could share together, all the years they could be together, more dreams and sunlight and quiet afternoons. This was the beginning of all the moments her hand would be in his, or his arms would wrap around her shoulders. Days with Madi, Octavia, Raven, Murphy. Days in which she could be his and he could be hers and they could say it out loud.

Clarke had said to him that she thought all the good things in her life had already happened to her. But with one kiss, one heart-stopping moment, the culmination of months of clawing their way out of the darkness, Bellamy proved her wrong. There would be so many good things she wouldn't be able to believe it. He would make sure of it.

Bellamy pulled away, watching as Clarke's eyes blinked open, wide and stunned. Their hands were still intertwined. She looked happy, but guarded still, ever-so-slightly. "It'll be hard. It'll be worse than it was before."

His response was unhesitating. "Maybe you make things harder. But you don't make them worse. I'm not looking for an easy life, Clarke. I'm looking for a happy one."

A moment passed. Then another. Then another. Until finally, as lovely as watching the sun rise over Alpha, Clarke slowly smiled, and Bellamy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they had finally made it out of the woods.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Thank god," Raven said when they got back. "I thought the sexual tension would kill me."

"Yeah, remind me to print you off my rules about PDA," Murphy said, but he was smiling.

Clarke and Bellamy grinned, happy to be teased. "We're gonna take off," Clarke said.

"We are?" Bellamy turned to her.

"We are."

This time, he let her lead him where she wanted to go.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Her apartment in the dark, with its familiar smells and shadows, with memories and moments. Bellamy realized with a pleasant tingle that they would share more here, more time, more movies, more lasagna. More love. But she didn't let him linger in the kitchen. She pulled him straight into the bedroom, and there was no conversation about who would sleep where.

God, he had spent months wanting her. And here she was in front of him. She tugged his shirt over his head, kissing him again, deeply and fervently. But her fingers hesitated over the first button on her blouse. Bellamy knew what she was thinking of. He reached for it, slowly, asking with her eyes if this was okay. She nodded.

Gently, he went down her chest, undoing button after button. When the shirt was open, their eyes flickered to the same place. A slightly raised pink scar, the size of a nickel, right above her navel. Bellamy traced it with his thumb. Clarke's hands were shaking, just a little, but she placed it over his, tracing it with him.

"Beautiful," Bellamy whispered. Just that word. But it was all he needed to say. She fell into him, he fell into her, and after falling apart alone, they finally fell together.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

So this was his life now, and it was messy and it was hard, and some days were better than others, but he didn't want any other life. This belonged to him. And it was beautiful. They'd come a long way from that first day in Polis, with her black coffee and her money and his pride and his suspicion. But they were here now, and everything, even the hard things, had brought him closer to her.

Bellamy still didn't know if he'd get a happy ending with Clarke. After all, happy endings were guaranteed to no one. But he believed in one. And they were going to try for one. Together.

And that would be enough. That would be more than enough.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(Years later, Bellamy and Clarke will return to Alpha, as they have every year, as they will every year to come. But this time, they will not be alone. This time, Madi will be by Bellamy's side and Octavia will be by Clarke's. Then they will run down to the lake, laughing.

Bellamy and Clarke will stand there a long time, until the sounds of Madi and Octavia's laughter fade in the distance. They will not say anything. They will not need to.

Bellamy will reach for Clarke's hand, Clarke will take it, and they will both take a moment to remember where they started, and how very, very far they have come. They will stand in silence for a long, long time and they will remember their story which was, of course, the story of how things that shatter can be made whole again, how people that have been lost for some time can always find their way back home and how, after living so long in the darkness, they had finally made their way to the light.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr, as always, @bellamysgriffin

**Author's Note:**

> i promise it gets better from here on out. but i had a little trouble with the start. you can find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin, i'd love it if you came and said hi :) xx


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